


Help Wanted

by DontForgetAParachute



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Babysitting, Baseball, Domestic, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Frottage, Post-CA:TWS, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Shower Mastrubation, Slow Burn, Tags to be added, Vaginal Fingering, handjobs, mastrubation, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontForgetAParachute/pseuds/DontForgetAParachute
Summary: Steve admits to Sam that he's been having some...problems...since the serum. He's been able to deal with them in the past, but things are getting to a difficult point now, and he's finally admitting he may need help.Luckily, Sam knows a guy.Or in this case, a girl.Slow building fic about meeting Steve Rogers, lots of baseball, unfortunate babysitting incidents, badass Natasha Romanoff, and shopping trips gone sideways. Fluff, fluff, and at some point, it's gonna turn into pretty much pure smut. Yay!JULY 8, 2017 UPDATE: "Help Wanted" on indefinite hiatus. Check "Chapter 15" (not an actual chapter) for details





	1. Chapter 1

Four years.

It had been four years since Steve had first emerged from the ice into this strange new world. It had taken quite a while to get used to, of course. All the advances in technology, the differences in cultural norms; even the way to greet somebody for the first time was different than before. Luckily, America today looked at Steve as “the man out of time”, so if he accidentally called a television “the box” or seemed lost as to what people were talking about when they discussed Fifth Harmony, no one could blame him. They just thought he was adorable.

Steve didn’t mind the whispers behind his back as he walked through the supermarket or jogged in the parks near his apartment. He had gotten used to them a long time ago. In fact, they were one of the few constants from the forties to now that he experienced. Everyone discussing him, analyzing him wherever he went or whatever he did. It was still occasionally grating and he honestly thought it to be downright rude at times, but he was used to rude at this point. People didn’t view him as an actual person so much as…an icon. A legend. He was more of an idea to these people, really. A _thing_.

That’s why he was so grateful for Sam. Sam treated him just like any of his other “bros” and would help him out whenever Steve said something outdated or was lost when it came to technology. Sure, there was still teasing and all the old man jokes that he got enough of from Tony, but unlike Tony, Sam knew when to quit.

Plus, Sam was a counselor. That meant he knew how to listen.

Which is how Steve ended up in this situation.

Steve shifted in his seat for the fourth time in under a minute. His knee bounced restlessly as he looked around the room and avoided eye contact. He felt bad. He had asked Sam for help, and Sam was sitting patiently across from him, giving him all the time he needed, but now that they were there, Steve couldn’t get it out.

He took a deep breath. “So, I have this problem…”

Sam waited a minute for him to continue. When it was clear he wasn’t going to, Sam nodded once, like he had actually gained any information, then set his hands down on the armrests of his big leather chair.

“Alright, how ‘bout I ask some general questions about this ‘ _problem’_ of yours and you answer if you can, and we’ll work our way there eventually. Sound reasonable?”

Steve nodded, not looking at Sam.

“Good. And you don’t have to wait for me to ask a question if you think you’re able to provide more information by yourself. So, let’s start with some basics. How long has it been going on?”

“Since I got the serum,” Steve answered dutifully, able to meet Sam’s eyes for just a second before looking back out the window.

Sam nodded encouragingly, like Steve had just admitted the entire thing to him and not only a tiny tidbit. “How often does it affect you?”

Steve took another deep breath, allowing his shoulders to fall as he let all the air out. “Every day,” he answered, then, “well, it…depends, I guess.”

Sam looked at him with an expectant expression. _Go on_.

Steve resettled his seat, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Back during the war, it…didn’t seem as urgent. It was a nuisance when it would happen, but it wasn’t something I really had the time to worry about with all the other stuff going on. So it would just kind of…go away on its own?” Steve looked at Sam, who was sitting thoughtfully. Sam made no move to speak, so Steve went on.

“And when I…when I first ‘ _woke up_ ’, everything was too crazy to worry about it. I had to adjust to a whole new century, a new way of life. Then there was Loki and the chitauri and the attack on New York, and it wasn’t important enough during that time to really mention it. And by the time things had settled down again…I guess I had just ignored it so long that it felt silly to bring it up to anyone.” Steve shrugged.

Wow, Sam was right, this _was_ easier. Sam gave a rueful smile. “Yet here you are, finally talking about it because whatever it is has become too unbearable to ignore now that you don’t have anything else to keep you busy.”

Steve gave a small grin and self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“You mentioned it started with the serum, but you only talked about the war and how you were too busy with that to be bothered by whatever it is. What about when you had _just_ gotten your new body? Was the problem present then, or…?”

“Yeah, almost immediately. I was busy those first few months, too, with the USO tour and just adjusting to a new skin and all, but I had more downtime then, and not everything was a fight for survival like the war was. Or New York.” Steve grimaced and Sam laughed.

“So how did you deal with the problem then?”

Steve turned a little pink and his expression grew pinched. He shifted his eyes around the room and shuffled his feet against the carpet as he cleared his throat. “Well, uh, at the time I kind of had…help?”

Sam raised one eyebrow. “Kind of?”

Steve turned a darker pink, having to duck his head for a minute before he was able to get the words out. “Yeah, uh, the USO girls helped me.”

Sam waited expectantly, and in that moment Steve knew he couldn’t tell him face to face like this. It was too embarrassing.

“Uh. Is it alright if we do something else while we talk?”

%%%

The crack of a baseball against a wooden bat was a familiar sound, as was the roar of the crowd as the runner sprinted for first. The feeling of the late afternoon sun smarting his face and forearms, the breeze at their backs in the very top row of the nosebleed section, and the smell of hot dogs were all comforting to Steve as he and Sam lounged with bottles of beer in their hands. The man selling beer for their section was turning up the steps, still hollering his options loudly over the crowd. Steve motioned to him and he made his way up the steps, grabbing another two of the same drinks for Sam and Steve before collecting the cash and making his way to another group.

Steve handed the second bottle to Sam before sitting back, propping his feet up on the empty seat in front of them. There was no one in their row, the row in front of them, or even the one in front of that. Perfect for ensuring that no one would be overhearing what they had to say.

“Thanks for paying, man. Two years in D.C. and you’d think I’d have made it to more than just a couple Nat’s games by now.” Sam took a swig of his drink with a satisfied sigh, not seeming to care that they were nosebleed seats as long as he got to kick back and relax.

Steve smiled a genuine smile, happy his friend was content in this moment. While Steve definitely could’ve afforded club-level seating or better, he had wanted to experience the game as close to his times from the forties as possible. They had never been able to afford good tickets on the rare half a dozen times they’d been able to go, and being all the way in the back felt like home. Besides, it afforded them the privacy he needed to have this conversation.

“Sure thing. I’m just glad we caught the metro before the game started. If only someone had remembered to bring a working metro card…”

“Hey! I never use my spare metro card. How was I supposed to know it had less than fifteen cents left on it?” Sam grumbled something into his beer as Steve laughed, taking a long gulp of his own.

He set his bottle down on his knee, playing with the label on the wet glass. He wished (not for the first time) that alcohol had any effect on him. It would make all of this so much less embarrassing. He decided he would just go for it.

“The serum gave me an increased libido. Like, _drastically_ increased. And the USO girls were always…happy to help. On the tour.” He brought the bottle to his lips again as he waited for Sam to respond. It was easier now, facing the game instead of Sam and not having to watch whatever emotions crossed Sam’s face.

“And so now that you’re not busy stopping Nazis and fighting aliens and all that shit, your body is wondering why you’re not getting your freak on, huh?”

It was so ridiculous that Steve had to laugh. “Is that what they call it now? ‘Getting your _freak_ on’?” Steve was glad he had chosen Sam to talk to about this weird problem of his. He knew how to make it less awkward.

Sam gave an easy grin as he watched an outfielder make a spectacular diving catch. “Well, what’d you call it back in _your_ day?”

Steve shook his head. “I used to call it ‘ _fondue’_ , but that’s only ‘cause I didn’t know any better.” He rolled his eyes. “I got a lot of crap about calling it that, but who could blame me? No girls even _looked_ at me when I was skinny. How was I supposed’t know?”

Sam eyed his friend’s sullen form, taking in the change of tone and droop of his broad shoulders. He lifted his sunglasses. “Does it ever make you mad? How many people adore you now just ‘cause you’re Captain America?”

Steve’s shoulders fell further, this time in what seemed to be defeat. “I shouldn’t be such a brat about it. The serum allowed me a second chance at life. Without it, especially considering Bucky had just shipped out, I probably would’ve died that winter. And it’s allowed me to help people, to save lives and change the course of wars. I should be grateful. I _am_ grateful,” he amended quietly.

Sam continued to look at Steve even after he finished speaking, and Steve sighed, resigned.

“Yes. It does make me mad.” Sam nodded, looking back to the game like that answered all of his questions.

It was another two batters before either of them spoke again.

“So, increased libido. And you can’t find anybody to do it with? You don’t think there’s anybody out there who can look past Captain America and see Steve Rogers?”

“I mean, I’ve gone on dates since waking up. All three were a disaster, though.”

“Okay, well, who says it has to be a _relationship_? Your girls with the USO. How many?”

Steve hid his face in his hands, missing the last strikeout of the inning. “Thirty-eight.”

“Thirty-ei—I meant how many did you _sleep_ with, Steve, not how many were on the tour!”

Steve buried his face even deeper into his palms. “It was a long tour, okay? Now shut your mouth.”

Sam’s jaw hung open a few seconds longer before snapping closed with an audible _click_. “Jesus, Rogers.” His voice was astonished. “So. Thirty-eight. See? Doesn’t have to be a relationship. We can just find a new fling for you every week. There’s more than enough chicks lining up for the chance to sleep with _you_. Thirty-eight, holy cow. You’ll have to teach me some of your tricks, man.”

Steve sighed, finally coming up to face his friend. “Sam, I can’t just go sleeping with a new girl every week! I could do it back then because, well, for one thing I was desperate, I wasn’t used to my body yet and controlling the urges was _torture_. For another, even though they weren’t exactly relationships, it was a closed circle of people. I spent months with the same women, then never saw them again for the rest of my life. They had me and then they were gone. And there was no twitter or Instagram or whatever to post about it on. If I tried it now, _everyone_ would know about it. There’d even be quizzes on Buzzfeed about ‘ _what_ _position would you do_ _with Captain America in bed?_ ’ I _can’t_ have that happen to my reputation. It’d be mortifying.” Steve signaled to the beer guy again. Five, please.

Sam kept quiet while Steve paid, waiting until the beer guy was out of earshot to speak again. “…I’m pretty sure Buzzfeed already has a quiz pretty similar to that one. I wonder what you’d get if you took it, ‘ _backwards cowgirl_ ’ or ‘ _sixty-nine_ ’?”

Steve let out a groan, throwing his head back and tipping his beer bottle back with it. Sam watched in amusement as he chugged the first new beer in less than two gulps. One down, four to go.

“Look, I get finding someone to do this with might be…well, _hard_.” Steve glared at Sam, before popping off the cap to the second bottle. “But until then, we’ll have to figure something else out. What have you been doing so far? Pornhub twice a day?”

“More. And toys, occasionally.”

“Toys? Wow. _Wow_ , that was not an image I needed.”

“Well, you _asked_. They don’t always help, though. And I’m getting tired of the actors on porn. They all suck.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s their job.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Right. Well. All we need is a girl with enough stamina to be able to go four to ten rounds a day, it sounds like. For the rest of both of your lives. Should be easy enough to find. We can just put a ‘HELP WANTED’ ad on Craigslist or whatever,” Sam teased.

“No. No Craigslist,” Steve said vehemently. “ _And_ she has to like me. For me. Not for Captain America.”

“Easy-peasy. Okay. Hmm…”

They were quiet as they watched the catcher jog to the mound to have a meeting with the pitcher. Sam spoke up.

“Sharon?”

“No.”

“Aw, why not? She likes _you_ —”

“And I have no interest in her beyond a professional relationship. I’m still annoyed I didn’t know she was spying on me the entire time I was in that apartment.”

“Ah, so is _that_ why you’re looking to get your own house?”

“That, and the landlady’s complaining that Natasha was scaring the other tenants with the way she keeps showing up through the windows or dropping out of the ceiling.”

“Oh, that’s it!”

“…No.”

“What? C’mon, it’d be perfect—”

“Don’t you _dare_ say it!”

“…Natasha?”

“Goddamn it, Sam.”

“Fine. If you’re not interested, does that mean I can?”

Steve rolled his eyes, passing over one of his remaining beers when Sam made grabby motions with his hands. “Sure, whatever. Just don’t mention this to her. She already meddles in my love life enough already as it is.”

“Square deal. Fine, I’ll be thinking about it, and you keep an eye out for any girl that catches your eye. Any major no-no’s or preferences right off the bat?”

Steve thought a bit, then shrugged. “While I agree that it doesn’t have to be a full relationship, ‘date-night every Friday’ kind of deal, I’d like to get to know them a little before we…consider doing anything else together. Just to make sure I like them, and that they’re trustworthy enough not to go spilling all my secrets the next day. Mostly, I’d just prefer if they like me for me.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good place to start. I’ll be on the lookout for you, bud. Thanks for trusting me with this.” He raised his beer bottle in salute.

Steve clinked the neck of Sam’s bottle with his own. They watched the rest of the game in contented comradery.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Hey, your spring break is coming up soon, right?_ **

Your eyes narrow in suspicion at the text. While Sam Wilson is probably one of your closest friends on the planet, the last time you received a text like that from him you had ended up passed out with exhaustion on the floor of a stranger’s house with confetti in your hair and silly string in places it did not belong. Except _that_ text had been about winter break a few years ago, and had found you going with him to a party with some of his wild friends from…well, who knows _where_ he knew them from. They sure knew how to throw one hell of a New Year’s Eve party, though.

Figuring that no one threw Easter Eve parties (at least, no one that you had heard of), you figured responding about spring break probably wouldn’t end up quite the same as last time. Still, you were a bit dubious, considering his wild connections.

_ …why? _

You put your phone down and forgot about it for the rest of the day as college students came filing into your classroom in groups of twos and threes. You had an art class to teach.

%%%

Your shoulders ached as you struggled to get the key in the lock. As the door finally opened you stumbled forward, letting the various boxes of art supplies piled in your arms fall to the floor, multiple satchels and backpacks immediately following. You nudged them out of the way with your foot and closed the door behind you, tossing the keys in the general direction of the overflowing table just inside the entryway.

Deciding they could stay where they were for now, you left the mess at the front door and walked into the dark kitchen, groping blindly for the light. You flipped the switch. Nothing. You tried twice more. Still nothing. Letting out a small sigh you pulled out your phone, dialing the number for the kind yet extremely forgetful old landlady.

It took almost six rings for anyone to pick up.

“Lola? Hi, Lola, it’s—”

You were cut off by an excited exclamation of your name, followed by a bunch of rapid fire Italian. You waited for a break in her clamoring and jumped when she paused for breath.

“Yes, yes, hi, it’s me. I’m good, thank you. How are you? You been taking care of yourse—?”

Again she stopped you to cram a dozen sentences into half as many seconds, and you allowed a smile to creep onto your face. No matter how forgetful your landlady was, she was sweet as could be and cared for you like a granddaughter.

“Yes, well, I’d love to hear all about your nephew’s new job conducting an orchestra. Maybe you can stop by for tea tomorrow? Yes, I’d love that. Oh, well, I was just calling to let you know that my power doesn’t seem to be working…again. Oh, could you? That would be wonderful.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear as Lola yelled at somebody on her end of the line for a good minute. You heard her screeching “Ralphie— _Ralphie_!” followed by some grumbling and clanking in the background, then the bulb above your kitchen sink flickered to life. Slowly, the rest of the lights in the kitchen began to glow, and you could hear the ancient refrigerator kick up. Drat. Depending on how long the power had been out, you might have to throw away all the milk. Again.

“Oh, Lola? Yes, it’s back up. Thank you _so much_. Tell Ralphie thanks for me as well. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Okay. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. Yes. Okay. Buh-bye now!”

You hung up the phone with a sigh, shoulders slumping after your long day. You did _not_ like New York one bit. There were just too many people! Fighting through the crowds on the streets and subways took what little energy you had left right out of you. But your students were amazing, and you loved your job, so it was worth it. For now.

It would be nice if you had some friends in this city, though. One and a half semesters teaching here and still you were lonely. Sure, you got along with most of the other professors and you loved your students, but there were only so many events you got invited to through work.

Just then, your phone rang. Looking down, a slow smile broke out over your face as you pressed receive.

“Well, speak of the devil,” you greeted. There was a rich laugh from the other end of the line. Just hearing it gave you more energy and put you at ease.

“Yeah, I guess I _am_ a pretty handsome devil, aren’t I?”

You rolled your eyes. “Whaddya want Sammy?” you demanded in a mock annoyed tone. “And make it snappy. I got important places to be.”

“What, you mean like planted on your ass in front of the TV with mint chocolate chip ice cream?”

Your eyebrows fell and you scowled at his words. Your hand was already on the freezer, preparing to open it for exactly that purpose.

“Hah! I called it, didn’t I? I know you so well!”

You shook your head as he continued to gloat, checking to see if the ice cream was still edible. _Yes_. Still cold! Perfect.

“And since I know you so well, I also know that you’ve got no plans for spring break next week, right? Am I right?”

You grabbed a spoon and vaulted over the back of the couch, grabbing the remote and flipping through channels as you munched on your ice cream. “What do you mean? I am _highly_ important where I work. I have meetings almost every day next week.”

“Yeah, right. So when’s your last class? Can you make it here by midnight Friday?”

“Now wait just a minute! Why should I come see _you_?”

“Uh, besides the fact that I’m totally awesome? If I bribe you with tickets to a couple’a National’s games, would that work?”

“Hmm,” you muttered, pretending to be unimpressed. But both of you knew you were just playing. It had been years since you and Sam had gone to a game together, and he knew you hated that you even had to spend the weekends in the city, let alone an entire break. You were already making your travel plans in your head.

“What if they’re club-level?” he prompted you.

“Hah! You can’t afford club level more than _once_!”

“I can’t, but I know someone who can,” he replied slyly. Oh?

“Really? I’m surprised you have any friends that would be willing to spend four consecutive hours with you, let alone drop that much money on you. Who is this ‘someone who can’ that you speak of?”

“You’d have to come to find out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’d really like them. And I mean, _really_. C’mon. Have I ever been wrong about a person before?”

He had a point, there. Sam was notorious for knowing how to read a person, and surrounded himself with only the best. Being a friend of Sam’s was both an honor and a prestige.

“Make it tickets to see the Orioles, and I’m in.”

“Deal.”


	3. Chapter 3

Steve pulled his bike into Sam’s driveway and cut the engine. He let himself in the front door, saddlebag slung over his arm.

“Hey, Sam,” he greeted, headed straight for the bathroom to change from his jeans to his running gear.

“Hey, Steve. Try not to knock anything over in there or break anything, alright? My friend just got in from the airport last night and is still sleeping.”

“Sounds good; I’ll make as much noise as possible.”

“Right on.”

Steve was in and out in a jiffy, dropping the saddlebag on one of the kitchen chairs as he exited the bathroom. “You ready?” he asked Sam, who was sitting reading a newspaper.

“Let’s go.”

They walked out onto the driveway, doing a few leisurely stretches before jogging off down the quiet street. A bunch of people were out on this nice Saturday morning, walking or running or riding their bikes. A large group of the neighborhood kids played a game of baseball in one of the bigger front yards, and a bunch of parents were gathered to watch and cheer and chat. Steve waved as they went by, smiling at the easy community this neighborhood had. He didn’t see much of that anymore.

“Hiya, Sam!” called out one of the kids, and all the others turned to wave eagerly. Sam was well known around the neighborhood, in large part due to his mother’s meatball recipe he brought to every neighborhood barbeque. Steve had teased him at first when Sam had admitted to bringing meatballs to a _barbeque_ —that is, until he had been invited along by Sam the next time and tasted them for himself. They were so good that they had become one of a grand total of _five_ dishes Steve had dedicated himself to learn how to make without burning. Completely burning, at least.

A bunch of the kids and parents waved when they recognized Steve, and the same kid who spoke earlier called out again. “Sam! Y’wanna play with us?” There was a chorus of agreeing voices, and Sam and Steve both smiled at the excited looks on these kids’ faces. They were so earnest and pure.

“Maybe later, you guys. Right now, I have to show Captain America which one of us is fastest!” and Sam took off sprinting down the sidewalk to cheers and cries of “yay, Falcon!”

Steve chuckled. Sam only called him by his superhero title in front of people that already knew Steve, as this neighborhood did. It made him smile when a little girl shouted out, “Go get ‘im, Steve!” instead of calling him “Captain America’, and the other kids all joined in.

Steve gave one final wave before sprinting after Sam, rounding the corner Sam had taken and hurdling over a dog in his path to the sound of cheers and laughter.

%%%

“Whew. That Tommy Felix sure has an arm!”

Steve grinned as he reached for a water bottle from the fridge. “I’m not sure little Veronica completely understands the difference between baseball and football, with the way she tackled you coming into third.”

Sam barked out a laugh, stealing Steve’s water bottle and leaning against the counter. “Yeah, I’m not as young as I once was. I think I’ll be feeling that one tomorrow.”

“C’mon, Sam, she’s _two_! How much could that really hurt?”

“Hey now, we may be talking about the next great linebacker in the NFL, come twenty years. Her older brothers have already taught her well.”

They were quiet for a minute as they each gulped down water, smiling around their water bottles. Sam was the first to speak again.

“Oh, almost forgot. Annette mentioned Mrs. O’Leary is holding a baby shower for her and Michael this Wednesday, and that we were both invited.”

Steve looked confused. “A baby shower? I thought those were usually just for women?”

Sam shrugged, kicking off his shoes. Steve’s nose wrinkled at the immediate stench. “That’s what I thought too, but apparently this is more of a neighborhood get together to celebrate it and less of an actual ‘baby shower’. I dunno. I told her we’d both be there.”

Steve nodded absently, plopping down in one of the kitchen chairs. “How many kids do Annette and Michael have already? Three? Four?”

“This will be number five,” Sam answered. Steve’s eyes bugged. Sam nodded gravely in agreement. “I know.”

“Wow. I wonder how much they pay the babysitter,” Steve pondered aloud.

“Why, you offerin’? You know, they’d be _thrilled_ to have you babysit. Any of the parents would. You’re good with kids, Steve. I don’t know why you don’t just move in here with me; that way, you’d be able to relax somewhere people already know you and already like you for you, not for the shield.”

“Well, I’d thought about looking for a place near here…”

“Why near? Why not just move in? I got an extra bedroom. I could use the help with rent. Both of us are busy enough that renting an entire house for ourselves is kinda pointless.”

“I don’t know…”

“Aw, _c’mon man_. You know it’s pretty quiet here; nice people that you already know; the local café already knows your order; grocer, drugstore, gas station all within a few minutes’ ride. And— _hey_ —that way we can go see baseball whenever we like!”

“You just love me for my tickets,” Steve snorted.

“I don’t deny it. Speaking of, did you order the ones for the Oriole’s games—?”

Steve waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Dunno why you changed it, though. I thought the Nat’s did okay—”

“It’s ‘cause the O’s are better,” came a tired voice from the door.

“Hey! There she is!”

Sam walked eagerly to the door leading from the hallway, where a slightly bed wrinkled (but not unattractive) woman leaned against the frame. He threw his arms around her in a big bear hug, leaning back to lift her off her feet. There was an ‘ _oof_ ’ as he squeezed her tightly, then a groan from him as she squeezed him even tighter. Steve was pretty sure he might’ve heard Sam’s back pop.

“ _Damn_ , girl. I’m gonna have to get you to go to the gym with me sometime this week and show me your workout regimen.”

There was a tired and noncommittal grunt from the woman as she was set back on the ground, and Steve stood up to shake her hand. She held out her own as he approached.

“Hi. I’m Steve,” he greeted politely. She showed no shift in demeanor to indicate having recognized him, or if she did, she seemed not to care. She introduced herself with a kind smile, asking how he knew their disgrace of a friend, Samuel Wilson.

(“Hey!”)

“We met during a workout. Haven’t been able to get rid of him since,” Steve answered easily, and she smiled with a bright laugh. Steve couldn’t help but smile in return. That’s when he realized how sweaty he was.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized hastily. “I haven’t had time to shower. I know I’m all gross.”

She shrugged indifferently. “Hey, it’s not like I’m fully ‘presentable’ either. Besides, I already got a sweaty bear hug from this one.” She hooked a thumb towards Sam, who was still pretending to pout.

"Fine. No breakfast for either of you,” Sam muttered, turning to look in his pantry.

She breezed past Sam, dropping a fond pat to his back, headed straight for the fridge and peering inside. “Okay, you guys want eggs? Sam, you have the stuff to make pancakes?”

Sam blanched as he looked into his sparse cupboard. “Uh…I dunno. Do I?”

Steve stepped back so he’d be out of the way as she moved to stand next to Sam. She grabbed multiple items and set them on the counter in a measly pile.

“Looks like you do.” She frowned at the pile, turning back to Sam and Steve, eyeing the two grown men a moment before turning back to the small heap of ingredients in front of her. “Barely,” she added under her breath.

Sam took a seat at the kitchen table while Steve helped her gather the materials needed to mix the pancakes.

“So, what time you get in last night?” Sam asked from where he was drinking orange juice right from the bottle. She shot him an unimpressed glance, walking past him to grab a couple of frying pans.

“Plane finally landed a bit after two a.m., didn’t arrive here until close to four thirty. The computer system at the rental car place crashed, so I had to wait most of an hour to get a car. No biggie, though.” She tipped the bottom of the orange juice carton just as Sam was bringing it up to take a drink, making it spill a big splotch down his shirt. “Thanks for leaving the door unlocked, by the way.”

“Hey!”

“So where’d you fly in from?” Steve asked as he bent to retrieve the eggs from the fridge.

“New York City. Ever been there?”

Sam choked on his drink behind them. Apparently, he was surprised she _hadn’t_ recognized Steve.

“Yeah. Born and raised in Brooklynn, actually. Where you living?”

“Queens-ish, I think. I’ve been teaching at a private art academy this year, and working part-time as an art substitute at a few other local colleges.”

“Oh, you’re into art? Awesome! So are you art history, principles of art, actual art class…?”

She and Steve talked the entire time they were making breakfast, almost forgetting Sam was even there. Steve made one batch of scrambled eggs in the entire time it took for her to get out fifteen pancakes, and they chatted amiably the whole way through breakfast, Sam throwing in the occasional snarky comment to remind them he was still present.

After finishing breakfast, Sam huffed that he wasn’t even needed and said he was going to take a shower. He left Steve and her to wash the dishes (his dishwasher was broken) and came back ten minutes later to find both of them still deep in conversation about…Greco-Roman sculptures? Sam knew Steve liked to draw, but he had no idea he was _that_ into art.

“Alright, Steve. If you wanna take a shower, feel free. I don’t think we’ll be doing much the rest of today, though; probably just going to be a down day for us.”

“I was going to head to get some groceries in just a bit, if that would work out actually. Since you have nothing edible here, Sam,” she said over her shoulder as she set a plate in the dish drainer.

“Hey, we just had pancakes!”

“Yeah, and only because _I_ made them. I looked at the rest of the stuff you have here; I am _not_ surviving on Cinnamon Toast Crunch for the entire week.”

“I’ll have you know that Cinnamon Toast Crunch is a perfectly acceptable meal to have for breakfast, lunch, _and_ dinner,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“The rest of the week? Anything special that you’re staying for?” Steve asked, voice overly-casual.

“Oh, not especially. Just enjoying spring break away from New York. I personally can’t stand the city anymore, and I’ve always liked coming to see the cherry blossoms in D.C., and Sam asked earlier this week if I was busy during break to see if I could come visit, so,” she shrugged. Sam threw an arm around her shoulders, giving Steve _a look_.

“…Nice. Well, I’m going to shower, and then I’d be happy to go with you to the store. If you want,” Steve added bashfully.

“Of course! I’d be happy to have you along.” She turned in Sam’s half-hug to look at him. “You comin’ too, Sammy boy?”

Sam let her go with an eye roll. “Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

She smiled. “Nice. Take your time, Steve. Like Sam said, we’re not doing much the rest of the day, so it doesn’t really matter when we go.”

Steve grabbed his saddlebag with the clean clothes on his way to the bathroom, smiling to himself as he heard his old friend and his new friend bickering about the redeeming qualities versus the downfalls of an all Cinnamon Toast Crunch diet.


	4. Chapter 4

"How far is the nearest grocery store?” you asked as you stepped onto the porch. It was a nice morning turning into early afternoon, the sun shining happily and birds diving through the air in an endless game of chase. You heard cheering down the block and wondered what it was from.

“About six minutes driving; twenty, walking,” Sam answered, not bothering to lock the front door behind him. Safe neighborhood, apparently.

"Let’s walk, then. My rental is a little…cramped, anyways.” You happily dropped your keys back into your bag, setting off down the driveway without checking to see if the guys were following. “What happened to your car again, Sam?”

It was quiet a beat too long, so you glanced behind you to see Sam and Steve sharing a look. “Uh, something was wrong with the steering wheel…and the windshield. Bummer, too, considering it was in pretty good condition otherwise.”

“Hm. Sorry to hear that. That’s gotta be annoying. How’ve you been getting to work?”

Sam shrugged as he fell into step on your left, Steve doing the same on your right. “Couple’a friends been givin’ me rides until it gets fixed. Mostly been taking some time off, though. I can really use the break,” he muttered the final sentence.

“Oh, yeah?” You frowned. Sam always did tend to overwork himself. “What’s been going on lately?”

Sam took just a little too long to respond again, but covered it with a shrug. “I dunno. I love what I do, I guess I just…needed a change of pace for a bit. Just a week or something to do something different. That’s why I invited you.” He nudged you in the arm with his elbow. You playfully elbowed him in the ribs.

“What about you, Steve? What do you do?”

Steve cast a dubious look over your head to Sam, who shrugged. You frowned but pretended not to see their interaction, instead letting your attention be drawn to the game of baseball in front of the house you were passing.

You grinned. Seeing all those kids running and laughing made it impossible not to. It reminded you of your own childhood, playing sports with your (much older) brothers. They were the ones to get you into baseball and the Orioles in the first place.

A boy around eight years old was the first to spot the three of you making your way down the sidewalk. “Hey, Sam! Hey, Steve! Wanna play again?”

Sam opened his mouth, head already shaking ‘no’, when your hand shot out to his arm. “Can we watch for a little bit? You don’t have to play. I’d just love to watch them, though. Please?” They reminded you of your nieces and nephews.

Sam closed his mouth to smile at you. “Alright, then. Let’s go watch.”

You walked over and Sam introduced you to the group of parents and grandparents standing around. They were a friendly bunch, waving a ready ‘hello’ and welcoming you easily into their conversations.

A pair of young, fiery-headed twins came sprinting at Sam, yelling, “Sam! Sam! Wanna play _Falcon_ again!”

Sam groaned. “Again? But we played that already!”

Steve laughed, clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “C’mon, Sam, don’t be such a grumpy old man! Hey, Charlie, I’ll play Falcon with you!” Steve knelt in front of the little boy twin, who jumped eagerly into the man’s big arms. Steve held Charlie easily above his head as he ran around in the grass, Charlie screaming out “faster!” and “higher!” as they went.

The female twin looked up to Sam with big eyes, tugging on his jeans.

Sam sighed. “How about you ask her? She’d be happy to play with you,” and pointed at you.

You put a bright smile on your face and waved hello. The little girl walked shyly forward, smile growing as she saw your own.

“Hi there. What’s your name?” you introduced yourself.

“Lydia,” the little girl said sweetly, taking a hold of your outstretched hand.

“Hi Lydia, it’s nice to meet you. Now, what’s this _Falcon_ game you wanna play?”

She pointed over to where Steve still held Charlie high in the air, like he was flying. “Oh, I get it. _Falcon_ , like the bird? Like flying?” The little girl nodded, holding up her arms with a smile. “Alright, hang on!”

You lifted her in the air and she squealed, laughing loudly above your head. You chased after Steve and Charlie, twirling gracefully out of the way when Steve spun around and charged at you. You heard Charlie giggle as Lydia yelled “again!” Steve came running back and you twisted to the side a second time as he passed, tossing the laughing little girl in the air before catching her.

You glanced back to find where Sam had gone to. He was talking animatedly with an older man, throwing his head back at some sassy remark the man’s wife threw in in response to Sam’s joke. You laughed as Steve ran up behind him and deposited Charlie on Sam’s shoulders, and watched as he exaggeratedly turned around and around to find out who was now clinging on to him.

“Me too! Me too!” Lydia cried, and you moved her so she was sitting astride your shoulders as well. “Pony!”

You galloped around, holding the little girl’s legs against your chest. A few of the younger kids who had gotten bored with the baseball game followed you around, skipping and galloping behind you as you went around a tree and behind a bush.

You saw Steve talking to a woman with the same fiery-red hair as Lydia and Charlie. “…is that alright?” he was asking her.

She nodded. “Yes, I trust you. Just hold onto her tight, okay?”

Steve nodded, saying, “Yes, ma’am,” before jogging in your direction.

You came to a halt just before you would’ve run into him. You ended up bumping into his chest anyway when the six kids who had been following you all mashed forward into your legs before they fell into a giggling heap.

"What? What was that?” You spun exaggeratedly on your heel, leaning far over so Lydia was hanging forward, though you kept a tight grip on her legs. The toddlers at your feet giggled when they saw Lydia swaying back and forth above them with your motions, scrambling away with shrieks of glee as you pretended to chase after them.

You turned back to Steve when most of them scattered back to the baseball game.

“Hiya.”

“Hi.” He blushed a little, and if there hadn’t been so many kids around he would’ve been the cutest thing you’d seen all day. He was still in the running for it, you had to admit. “I have an idea. Turn around.”

You did so without question. You felt a pair of large hands at your waist, then caught your breath as you felt yourself being lifted up, up, up over his head and set on his shoulders, as easily as if you had been Lydia.

The little girl shrieked out a laugh, little fists holding tightly to your hair.

“Wha—how did you _do_ that?” He hadn’t even had to crouch to lift you all the way to his shoulders, just took you and plopped you down, easy as he pleased.

Steve only laughed, strolling around casually with his hands holding you steady. You heard a bunch of the kids shouting, “I wanna turn! I wanna turn!” before Sam called out over the ruckus.

“Sorry, everybody! We need to be going now. No more rides.”

There was a chorus of “aww” (which you almost joined in on) as Steve lifted you from his shoulders and set you gently back on the ground. You dropped gracefully to your knees and did the same with Lydia, who turned and gave you a tight hug around the neck.

“Will we get to play pony again?” she asked eagerly.

You opened your mouth to answer with “I don’t know, maybe,” when Sam beat you to it.

“You guys will get to play pony all you want! I just talked to your mommy and daddy, Lydia, and they said they needed a babysitter for you and your brothers and sister while they go on vacation this week. So she, Steve, and I will be your babysitters until they get back for the baby shower on Wednesday!”

Lydia squealed and hugged you again, almost cutting off your air supply. You shot Sam a look. What the heck was he talking about?

The woman Steve had been talking to earlier made her way over to you. “Hi, I’m Annette, this is my husband, Michael. We were just talking to Sam about how our sitter for this week cancelled just yesterday, and Michael and I are supposed to leave for the beach later this afternoon. I had sent out a ‘help wanted’ email to everyone I knew, but when no one responded I thought we would have to cancel! This was supposed to be our last vacation, just Michael and I, before the baby comes in two months.” She set her hands on her swollen belly and beamed at you and Steve. “Thank you _so much_ for offering to babysit! We’re leaving at five today, so if you can come over by two thirty so we can tell you all about what you need to do, that would be great! That’s when Charlie and Lydia are going down for their nap, so that’ll be two less kids you have to worry about right away. Sound good? Great. Thanks so much!” And she and Michael walked away.

You stood there, stunned. Steve spoke behind you. “Sam. Explain. Now.”

Sam grinned spreading his arms wide. “Isn’t it great? See, Steve, I _told_ you anyone’d love to have you as a sitter. And they’re paying double since it’s last minute, which is perfect since we’ll be splitting it between the three of us. I could use some cash since I’m not working this week. And they have a backyard pool—”

"What about the baseball game tomorrow?” you cut in, slightly dazed by this very abrupt turn of events.

Sam’s smile finally faltered. “Oh—oh, I’d forgotten about that.”

Steve let out a sigh through his nose, and you turned to look at him. “You have a motorcycle, right? That was yours I saw out in front of this idiot’s house?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded once, firmly. “Perfect. I say we ditch him with the kids, and just you and I go and catch the game. How’s that sound?”

Sam let out a strangled cry, while Steve grinned. “Sounds perfect.”

“Great. That settles it.” You strode back to the sidewalk. “Now, on to the grocery store, I believe?”

Steve followed after you, coming up to walk beside you as Sam trailed behind in defeat. “I do believe you are correct,” he said with a smile, swinging his arms as he went.

Sam groaned loudly from behind you. “You guys aren’t really gonna leave me tomorrow, are you?”

Just then one of the kids called out, waving at the three of you as you walked by. “Bye Falcon! Bye Captain America!”

You frowned. “Falcon? Captain America?”

Steve and Sam both stood still, and you looked at them questioningly. All of a sudden, the news reports from two weeks ago came flooding back.

You turned to Sam. “You’re…you’re the Falcon?” you asked in disbelief, jaw dropping slightly.

He watched you a moment, before breaking out into a nervous laugh. “Yeah, um…surprise.”

Both men tried to cover their smiles as your eyes widened, brain rushing to process things. “Oh.” you said. Then, turning to Steve, “ _Oh_.”

He looked at you, barely containing a grin, though a bit nervous obviously as to how you would respond. “Yeah. I’m Steve _Rogers_. Captain America.”

You stared at him a moment before all three of you started laughing, loud and silly.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot,” you wheezed, which only made them laugh harder. Steve seemed pleased that your demeanor and treatment of him hadn’t changed.

“Uh, as Sam said: surprise,” Steve smiled down at you, eyes crinkling.

You shook your head, only barely refraining from smacking yourself in the face. “Wow. Okay.” You giggled a moment more before Sam looked down at his watch.

“Hey guys, I hate to break up this epiphany and all, but if we want to be back here by one thirty for Annette then we’d better get going to the store.”

"Right, okay,” you nodded, turning to start back down the sidewalk again. Well… _now_ what do you talk about?

Luckily Sam solved that problem for you. “But really. You’re not gonna leave me at home tomorrow with the kids, right?”

You and Steve looked at each other, and silently elected to ignore him.

“So, who are the Orioles playing again?” you asked him conversationally.

Sam sighed, following along behind as you and Steve discussed baseball statistics and baseball history. “I’m really gonna regret this, aren’t I?” he mumbled to no one in particular.


	5. Chapter 5

“Okay. Sugar, chocolate chips, butter, strawberries, raspberries, bananas, celery, asparagus, chicken breasts…” she rattled off the grocery list as she walked, heading for the produce section first. Steve and Sam followed behind, Steve pushing a shopping cart and Sam eyeing the candy isle off to their right. “Anything either of you want?” she asked.

Neither man answered, content to trail along and joke around as she did most of the shopping. The sound of a child whining caught Steve’s attention.

“Eww, Mommy, ‘sparagus’s _disgusting_!” A little boy was stamping his feet by his oblivious mother’s side, pouting as she piled various vegetables into her shopping basket.

“Yes, honey, it is,” the mother agreed absently, checking over spinach prices next.

“Mommy! Not spinach! That’s even _worse_!” the boy’s older sister exclaimed. They looked to be four and six years old, running around their harried mother as she did her best to stay sane.

“Of course it is, dear,” the mother nodded. She moved on to potatoes, barely noticing her little kids falling to the floor to sit and sulk. Steve smiled at the scene. Kids were hilarious.

Steve forced his smile to remain present when the little girl noticed him. He watched as her mouth dropped and her eyes widened in recognition. She poked her brother in the side. “Timmy. Hey, Timmy.”

“ _What_?” Timmy demanded, grumpy. Then he saw Steve. “Is that…?”

The little girl nodded vigorously. “It is! It’s Captain America! Let’s go say hi!” The two kids sprung up off the floor and raced towards Steve, who figured it was probably too late to hide behind the shopping cart. Sam, who had witnessed the whole thing, chuckled beside him.

“Guess this probably isn’t what you expected when you signed up to become a lab rat, huh?” he teased.

“Oh, shut up,” Steve muttered, plastering a smile on as two brightly-clothed projectiles sprinted into his legs and attached themselves to him.

“Captain America! Captain America!” they chanted, drawing her attention. She smiled, and for a second Steve thought it was all worth it. The kids’ mother remained engrossed in carrot sales at the other end of the produce section.

The little boy gasped, looking up at Sam with the most adorably excited expression. “Are you the Falcon?” he asked in an awed whisper.

Sam grinned, nodding. “Why, yes. Yes I am. You’ve heard of me, huh?”

The little girl jumped away from Steve and into Sam’s legs instead. “Yeah, you can _fly_! That’s even cooler than Captain America!” she practically shouted, and for a moment Steve was worried they would draw the attention of other store-goers and draw an entire crowd that he would have to stand around and sign autographs for.

But it remained just the six of them: him and Sam, the little boy and girl, her, and the mother of the kids, now examining a zucchini.

“Timmy! Timmy! Let’s get a picture,” the little girl cried, and the kids ran over to their mother, jabbering excitedly about Captain America and the Falcon shopping for kiwis and could they get Mommy’s phone please?

The mother handed it over distractedly, only seeming to take in about a third of what they were saying. The kids raced back over, phone held victoriously aloft. “Picture, picture!” they cried.

Steve knelt on the ground, and Sam did the same next to him. Steve was worried he’d have to take a selfie (he was always delegated the group selfie taker; he had the longest arms) when she walked back over. “Hey guys. Want me to take the picture for you?”

Steve handed over the phone with a relieved smile, and she smiled back. The kids stood between Sam and Steve, little arms flung around each of the men’s necks.

“Alright, one, two, three, Cheesitz!” she said, and the little boy giggled. “One more. One, two, three, Cheesitz! Yay! All done,” she handed the phone to the girl.

“Awesome! Thank you, miss!” the girl cried, before turning to give Sam and Steve one last hug each. The boy did the same.

“Alright, kids. It was nice meeting you. Be good for your mother, okay? And when she offers you vegetables, don’t complain. All those vegetables make you strong, and then maybe you can become a superhero one day too,” Steve recited, and for a moment it felt like his performing monkey days. Well, at least he wasn’t wearing tights anymore.

“Yes, sir!” they shouted enthusiastically. They scampered off, running to their mother and begging the confused woman if she would buy brussel sprouts and broccoli now, too. Steve chuckled. He could only imagine the woman’s face later when she was scrolling through her camera roll and found the photos of her kids with Captain America and the Falcon.

“That was really sweet of you, Steve,” she said next to him, and he couldn’t help but blush a little. Sam ruined the moment by appearing between them, juggling four avocados like a circus act.

"Alright, who wants guacamole?” he asked no one in particular, catching the four avocados with ease and depositing them neatly in the shopping cart. “Feels pretty nice being recognized as a superhero, I have’ta say.”

Steve shook his head, leaning on the shopping cart as they continued on. “Just wait. You get used to it.”

She laughed, bright and happy, and Steve allowed a smile to tug at his lips as they moved on to the snack isle.

“Hmm, Sam, you wanna grab some Tostitos while we’re here? And some salsa, to go with the guac.” She frowned down at her list. Steve peeked over her shoulder and blanched. He would be surprised if they walked out of the store without buying half the stock.

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “I know. This is what happens when _someone_ doesn’t go shopping for themselves.”

Sam tossed a bag of chips at Steve, who caught it easily. “Hey, I’ve been busy, man. I’m new to this whole superhero life; I still haven’t figured out the balance between civilian life and gym time,” he defended. “Not all of us can get away with working out only once a week and still looking like _that_ , like a certain _Captain America_.” Steve smiled angelically at him.

“Hah,” she laughed. “Captain America.” She patted his bicep distractedly as she passed him, still gazing down at her shopping list. She treated him with such ease after just learning who he was less than a half hour before, and Steve couldn’t help but smile dopily after her. Sam sent him a knowing smirk, but turned back to the shelf before Steve could scowl at him.

“You guys in the mood for Doritos?” Sam called, tossing a red bag to Steve. Steve frowned at the bag in his hand, shooting Sam a glare. Sam teased him constantly about something called tumblr and what he called “Captain Dorito”, and when they had come out with the Avengers-themed Dorito bags a few weeks ago, Sam had lost it. Steve made a face at the image of Thor on the bag, throwing it back to Sam, who let out a laugh.

“No. _No Doritos_ ,” Steve ground out.

"Eh, no, get the cool ranch ones. Those are better, anyway.”

Steve looked at her with wide eyes, caught off guard by her teasing. Except that…she wasn’t. She was still focused on her shopping list, crossing off certain items and scribbling others in.

Sam made a victorious sound as he threw another bag at Steve. He caught it grudgingly, only glancing briefly down at the blue foil and his own likeness before tossing it in the cart. Sam snorted behind her back when Steve pretended to charge him with the cart, almost knocking over a display of salsa in the process.

They made their way slowly through the store, cart loaded down to the point where Sam had to go retrieve a second one in order to prevent it from overflowing. At last they made their way to the front of the store, opting for the self-checkout so as not to exasperate one of the employees with checking out their two-hundred-thirty-plus items for them.

They were passing one final display, piled high with boxes of….

“What’s a ‘Swiss Cake Roll’?” Steve asked. He was lucky to have his strength to be able to stop the heavy cart, otherwise it would’ve rolled right into her when she stopped dead in her tracks.

She turned to face Sam with wide, offended eyes. “Samuel Wilson. How have you not introduced Steve to the wonder that is a Swiss Cake Roll?” she accused.

Sam held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know! C’mon, man, how can you _not_ have had a Swiss Cake Roll by now?”

Steve made a face. “I’ve been a little busy, actually. You know, waking up from the ice, saving New York, saving D.C….” he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. They were in the clear.

She huffed, tsking as she piled four of the thin boxes into Sam’s cart. “Steve, you poor thing. Don’t worry, we’re going to fix this immediately.”

The walk home was filled with easy banter and laughter, the three of them devouring one and a half boxes of the Swiss Cake Rolls on the way as they juggled their excessive number of shopping bags. Steve predictably was loaded down with the most, Sam with the next most; but he was impressed to see that she held her own in carrying the rest, which must’ve weighed just as much as Sam’s haul did.

They stumbled through Sam’s front door and dropped the various bags on the counter, putting away the frozen pizzas and other frozen goods before Sam looked at his watch.

“Okay, it’s about time to head over to our new babysitting job,” he noted, ignoring the glare sent his way from both her and Steve. “Crap. Should we have gotten, like, juice boxes and mac n’ cheese?”

She huffed. “I dunno, Sam, should we? Considering you’re the one making all the plans now, apparently.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and he flipped her off. “Oh, hey now. You sure you’re cut out to be a babysitter? Can’t have you doing that around the kiddies.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sam muttered, turning towards the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute. Don’t burn the house down, children.”

She turned to Steve once Sam was gone. “Real great guy, huh? Pity you had to run into him. Good thing he’s got some great friends though, right?” She winked playfully, and Steve struggled not to stutter.

“Yeah, true.” He laughed, and it sounded forced. She seemed not to notice, throwing a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer.

“Well, I think that’s the last of the stuff that needs to be kept cold. How ‘bout we sit outside while we wait for Sam?”

"Sure. We can test out the porch swing he had me help set up the other day. Haven’t had a chance to try it yet.” He followed her outside.

She tugged halfheartedly on the chains the swing was suspended from. “If I fall, think you’ll be able to catch me?” she grinned at him.

“I can try my best. No promises,” he smiled nervously. Crap. Would it even be able to hold his weight?

She sat down first, Steve holding the swing steady for her as she got settled. She smiled up at him, patting the seat next to her. He let his weight slowly transfer to the swing, ready to spring up if the boards or chains began to creak in warning. They held firm, and he leaned comfortably against the back.

Just then, Sam walked out. “Aw, you lazy birds. No room for me, though?” he joked, making a move to sit between them.

She swung her feet up and across Steve’s lap, effectively blocking any space on the bench. “Sorry. None.”

Sam examined them for a minute before deciding to go for it, sprawling on top of her with his feet in Steve’s face. The swing rocked dangerously, but held. “Ahh. This is the life.”

Steve used his feet on the porch to begin to move the swing gently back and forth, swatting Sam’s feet out of his face. “Yeah. ‘The life’,” he grumbled.

She laughed, her face hidden behind Sam’s shoulders. “I dunno, Steve, things are lookin’ pretty nice from your end,” she managed to get out, clearly having some difficulty breathing with Sam’s weight on top of her, but nothing too terrible, it seemed. “Care to trade?”

Sam let out a grunt. “I have no idea what you fools are talkin’ about. This is perfect. You sure do make a nice pillow.” He shifted to get more comfortable in her lap, nearly elbowing her in the face in the process. She grumbled something that Steve didn’t catch over the sound of the chains beginning to groan.

“Oops, sounds like we need to lose some weight,” Steve commented casually, easily pushing Sam off the swing with a single shove. Sam went sprawling across the porch and she laughed, loud and carefree. She made a move to get off the swing, but Steve twisted around so that now he was lying atop her front, just like Sam had. “Huh, he’s right. You are a pretty comfy pillow.”        

“Steeeve, no!” She pushed ineffectively at his shoulders, unable to get any leverage from her angle. Sam came up to his knees beside them, hands going for her sides. “Sam! _No_!”

Sam began tickling her and she wiggled in a valiant effort to get away, but she was unable to move under Steve’s weight. The bench of the swing gave a final creak before the whole thing collapsed, and they fell to the wood of the porch in a heavy pile.

Luckily, the swing was only about a foot off the porch with the weight of Steve added on, so they didn’t have far to fall. Still, Steve only managed to get less than half his weight off of her before they landed, and she let out a big “uff!” as she took about a hundred forty pounds of supersoldier straight to the diaphragm.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Steve asked frantically, rolling off her. Sam was helping haul him to his feet, and they both leaned over the woman laying across the splintered remains of the porch swing.

She struggled to sit up, obviously having gotten the wind knocked out of her. “Ugh. Fine,” she gasped out, holding up a finger to indicate to give her a moment. She moved slowly to her feet, finally taking in a big gulping breath as she stood more or less upright.

She looked from Sam to Steve and back again before wheezing out a laugh. “Your faces are priceless,” she muttered between coughs, still laughing.

Steve looked to Sam, who stared back at him just as stunned. Steve was the first to break down into a snicker, until all three stood there almost crying with laughter as they looked at the broken planks of the swing.

“Well, Sam…looks like I owe you a new porch swing,” Steve finally hiccupped out. This was already turning out to be quite the memorable day.

“Uh, I’ll say. I’ll tell you how you can make it up to me, though. Bring me along tomorrow?” Sam was so hopeful, clearly thinking they had been serious when they had talked about ditching him with the kids in favor of going to watch baseball alone.

That made her and Steve only laugh harder, patting Sam on the back as he looked between them, confused. “Of course, buddy. We weren’t actually going to leave you. We’ll just have to figure something out, since we’ll have the kids to watch.”

Sam let out a pleased smile, before it dropped in realization. “Oh! The kids! C’mon guys, we gotta go, or we’re gonna be late.” He took off at a jog down the driveway, turning back when neither of his friends were following behind. Instead, they stood staring at the broken swing. “We’ll clean it up later, c’mon!”

Steve looked at her, and she looked at Steve. She rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said, offering her hand before pulling Steve along after Sam. Even once Steve was following willingly, he didn’t let go.


	6. Chapter 6

You dropped Steve’s hand once the three of you turned into one of the driveways, seeing Annette and Michael standing out front waiting for you. You waved hi, and Annette waved in return, red hair floating in the spring breeze.

Charlie and Lydia came racing out of the house just then, yelling “Pony! Falcon! Pony!”

Steve stopped in his tracks, and you glanced back at him. “I thought those two were supposed to be sleeping,” he said.

You smiled down at Lydia as she jumped up, arms extended towards you. You swept her easily up into the air and onto your shoulders again, turning to give Steve a rueful grin. “Guess not.”

Sam was flying Charlie around, setting him on his feet to shake Michael’s hand in greeting before ushering the young boy inside.

“Come in, come in, welcome,” Annette said, waving the three of you into the big house with a warm smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this, again. You have no idea how much it means.”

Steve smiled and tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Our pleasure, ma’am. We’re happy we can help in any way.” Annette beamed, and you had to hide a laugh behind a cough at the heart eyes she was practically making at Steve. Steve glanced over at you with a tight smile, obviously having caught on to the adoring look he was receiving and feeling acutely uncomfortable with it, too.

Annette turned to you. “Come on this way, I don’t think you’ve met the other two yet. Sam and Steve have, of course, and the kids love them. I think they’ll love you, too. Michael, would you…” Annette trailed off, gesturing to Lydia, still sitting on your shoulders. You relinquished the little girl into her dad’s arms, and she yawned widely as she waved goodbye and was carried off upstairs, presumably to the nap she had either escaped from or had never even been set down for. Charlie charged up the stairs on all fours after his father, clearly going to require more time to fall asleep than his twin sister.

The three of you followed Annette into the messy living room, where a young boy was watching Barney and Friends on TV. “This is Justin. Justin, these are going to be your babysitters while Mommy and Daddy are gone. Justin? Justin, look at me.”

The boy eventually tore his gaze from the TV, bored eyes taking in the three guests. Then, realization hit. “Hi Sam! Hi Steve!” His excited grin turned into a frown of confusion. “Who are you?”

Sam struggled to muffle a laugh as Annette scolded her eldest child. “Justin! That is not how we greet a guest. Now, try again. Go on,” she urged.

Justin, with the same red hair as his mother and twin siblings, looked shyly at your feet. “Hi, my name is Justin. It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?” he asked in a practiced voice. You smiled and introduced yourself. Just then, the sound of crying interrupted you.

“Oh, that’s the little one, hold on a sec.” Annette marched off into the kitchen, where there was a crash and the unmistakable sound of Cheerios being spilled all over the floor (you had spent enough time babysitting for your brothers to know what that sounded like).

Annette came back in carrying a crying toddler, nose streaming and cheerios stuck to the bottom of her feet. “And this is Cynthia. She only takes naps when she’s in her high chair, for whatever reason. Not that it should be too strange, as Justin would only take naps in his car seat for the first three years.”

“Mom,” Justin complained, clearly embarrassed.

“She usually sleeps from around noon ‘til now, and the twins usually sleep from now ‘til half-after. I know, I often wish these three could coordinate and choose to sleep at the same time, but, well, once you have kids, you’ll know.” She smiled at the three of you, eyeing you especially. You kept an overly bright smile on as you were handed the now screaming Cynthia to settle down, as Annette began hastily picking up some of the toys, firing off information on all of the kids as she went.

"Justin is eight, the twins are four and a half, and Cynthia just turned two. Justin gets no more than three hours of TV a day, or if he decides to watch a movie, it’s one movie and one program. Justin, come help me with the Legos. The twins can watch one program of TV a day, and they have to choose together which one it is. If it’s during the time Justin is watching, the twins get precedence since they only get the one show a day. Bed time for Justin and the twins is anywhere between seven and eight thirty, and Cynthia…well, she’s a bit harder. Sometimes she passes out on you at six, sometimes she’s up until ten. The twins sleep in the same room, and Lydia often crawls in with Charlie overnight, so don’t be surprised when you go to wake her and find her out of her bed. Cynthia is sleeping in our room until the baby comes, but the room at the end of the hall is technically hers, with all her clothes and diapers and toys. We usually make waffles or French toast for breakfast, and lunch is always debatable and at whatever time each of the kids wants. Dinner is always a family meal, and they all have to eat, even if they say they aren’t hungry.” She paused her monologue to look pointedly at Justin, who pretended not to notice. “Cynthia is in a sweet potato phase, and that’s about all you’re going to be able to get her to readily eat at this point, though of course we have her eat other stuff too, even though she doesn’t want to. Most dinners end with her sobbing, but she’ll wear down eventually and eat something else, too. Charlie always has juice with dinner, and Lydia…”

It took half an hour for the five of you to get the living room cleaned, though Justin often stopped to watch Barney and you were busy still calming Cynthia down from her earlier screaming fit. Annette talked the whole way through, and you tried your best to remember all the details for each child. Once she mentioned she had everything written down, though, you more or less tuned out, focusing all your effort on making Cynthia happy and letting Sam and Steve help Annette clean up the toys.

Annette was showing you what they had on stock in the refrigerator when Michael made his way downstairs, half an hour after first going up.

“Charlie is finally asleep,” he said, and _he_ looked like he could use a nap. He came and took Cynthia out of your aching arms, pressing a soft kiss to her temple as she cooed “Daddy”. Although their life was hectic, they really loved their kids, and that was evident in every smile, every frown, every sigh and every laugh he and Annette made.

“You guys are welcome to use the pool as much as you want, and feel free to tell the kids to give you some time for just the three of you to use it during some of their nap times or in the evenings. We have a baby monitor stored away in the closet that you can use. It works for up to one hundred feet, so you can keep one by the pool and the other inside to make sure no one’s fighting or crying. The twins are just learning how to doggy paddle, and are only allowed in the deep end if they have their floaties on _and_ have an adult in the deep end with them.”

You glanced at Sam out of the corner of your eye. He had a dazed look, like he was about to fall over at any second. You hid a smile when Annette turned her back to plant a kiss on Cynthia’s cheek.

“Oh! I almost forgot. Sleeping arrangements. I’ll wash the sheets in our bedroom so that will be useable. When one of you needs a break, or if you would prefer to sleep in your own house, Sam, as long as there’s one adult here at night that would be perfectly fine. Right now we just have our bed and the living room couch, so unless you have a sleeping bag, one of you might choose to sleep back at your house anyway. Let me go strip the bed.”

Michael gave you three an apologetic smile as his wife flitted off upstairs. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to take in all at once. That’s why I had her write a list so you won’t have to memorize everything.” He glanced at Cynthia, who was making faces at Steve. “If you guys are planning on going anywhere or need to take the kids, we have car seats for all of them. Sam, is your car compatible with car seats?”

You answered for him. “Mine is. It might be a little cramped, though. They didn’t have a lot of options at the rental place,” you said apologetically. Michael smiled.

“As long as they’re in their car seats and safe, they can learn to deal. Any plans for going anywhere? I know taking four kids anywhere can be a lot, but if you could manage it, it might help them not feel cooped up in the neighborhood.”

Steve spoke up. “Uh, yeah. We were thinking about going to a baseball game tomorrow. We could take them as well, if it’s okay with you they go to Baltimore…?”

Michael’s eyes widened. “You wanna take them to see the Orioles? That’s a lotta money for tickets…”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” Steve said quickly. You didn’t know if he actually did, or if he just decided it would be better to talk about something else. “Uhm, we could go see the aquarium? I have yet to go there myself, actually.”

Michael beamed. “They would love that! Cynthia’s been wanting to see a dolphin for a while now, haven’t ya, little girl?”

“Do’phin,” Cynthia giggled in agreement.

You smiled at Steve. “Great idea, Steve. I’m sure there’s loads of stuff we could do.” He grinned back at you, and it was precious how truly pleased he seemed. “We can go to some of the museums in the city, or—oh! I know! The cherry blossom festival is this week!”

“Nice. Between here and Baltimore, you guys should have no problem finding stuff to do. Of course, the kids always love to just play in the backyard or float in the pool, too.”

“I think I could get down with that.” You laughed at the idea of Marco Polo with Steve and Sam.

Annette came bumbling down the stairs with a load of laundry. “Oh, this is perfect. Could I get one of you to come with me so I can show you how the laundry machine works? It can be rather tricky sometimes…”

“I’ll come,” you volunteered, following her into the basement. Justin followed the two of you down, watching with boredom as his mother showed you the different tricks to coercing the old machine into action. He spent most of his time stealing glances at you, and you had to suppress a smile. Seems like Justin had a bit of a crush on you.

“Justin, why don’t you go upstairs and make yourself a snack while the grown-ups talk, okay?” Justin looked like he wanted to argue a minute, but shrugged and romped up the stairs. Annette turned to you with a knowing smile. “He likes you,” she said with a slight laugh.

“I guess so. He seems like a good kid.”

“I should warn you, he gets a bit clingy when he has a crush. Just keep that in mind. He means the best, though.” She feigned nonchalance as she closed the lid of the washing machine. “Try not to let Steve get too jealous.”

“I—what?” you asked with a laugh, sharing her smile. Annette leaned closer, eyes bright with gossip and matchmaking.

“I don’t know if you and Steve are together, but you certainly get along quite well. For a while I thought he was into Sam, but it’s pretty clear that since they haven’t gotten together by now, he’s not into guys.” You let out a loud laugh, and she giggled along. While a bit hyper with the kids, Annette was genuine and funny when she wasn’t worried about baby formula and toy trucks. “It’s a bit of a shame, really. They’d make a good pair.”

“Oh, you sure you wouldn’t want him for yourself if you were single?” you teased and she blushed.

“ _If_ I were single, I’d consider going after that. Don’t tell Michael, though. I’ve been trying to get him to join Sam and Steve on their runs, see what they do for their workouts. Whatever I can do to get Michael’s backside looking like Steve’s…”

You burst out laughing, and she joined in a second later, mischievous smile growing on her pretty face. “I’ll have to give you my phone number, not just in case of an emergencies, but so you can text me updates on the kids. Feel free to send photos, too. Of all of you together. Especially, ah, if you’re using the pool.”

She wiggled her eyebrows and you lost it, falling into a fit of giggles as a male voice called down the stairs, “Honey, what are you telling her down there?”

“Oh, nothing dear. Nothing at all!” Annette called back up, her attempted innocence ruined by another loud cackle that you echoed.

“You remind me a lot of my sister-in-law, you know,” you commented as the two of you made your way upstairs.

“Really? You have siblings?”

“Yeah, brothers. They’re a good deal older than me, though, so they were married and having kids before I even finished college.”

“Ah, so is that how you got to be so good with kids?” she asked, turning off the light and shutting the basement door.

“Hm. I guess so.”

“What were you two talking about down there?” Michael asked suspiciously as you turned back to the three men.

“Nothing that you need to worry about, honey. Just girl things,” Annette answered smoothly, sharing a look with you. The guys shared an uneasy glance, worried by just what exactly “girl things” might entail.

You, Sam, and Steve spent another hour learning all that you needed to know about meal times, bath time, sleep schedules, play habits, and time-out procedures, then it was time for Michael and Annette to go. They said their goodbyes to the kids, squeezing them all tightly before loading a pair of suitcases in the car.

“We’ll only be a few hours away, not going too far. You kids be good while we’re gone! We better not hear about any fights or broken toys when we get back!”

The four children nodded, already losing interest in their parents leaving, excited for the adventure that was having a (or multiple) babysitters for an extended weekend. They stayed long enough to wave the car down the block, before they were jumping up and down in front of you three.

“Can we watch Scooby-Doo?”

“Can we play hopscotch?”

“I wanna play dinosaurs!”

“Wah!”

You looked at Sam, who was looking at Steve, who was looking at you.

This would be interesting.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve woke up to the sound of wailing and something glass breaking.

He shot up out of bed, looking around at his surroundings in confusion. This wasn’t his apartment. It wasn’t Sam’s house. Where was he?

A child began crying, and Steve suddenly remembered Sam’s promise to Annette and Michael. Right. Babysitting.

He stumbled his way towards the kitchen, tripping over toys that were strewn about the floor on his way. He rubbed the palm of his hand against one bleary eye and was greeted by the sight of Lydia sobbing amidst a pile of broken glass.

“Ah, crap!” he muttered, reaching delicately for the child and lifting her from the floor. He set her on a nearby counter, kneeling on the floor to check her feet for cuts or any glass that might still be there. After a quick check he determined that there was none, and scooped the little girl into his arms in order to soothe her. She continued crying, clearly upset but thankfully uninjured.

“Is anybody hurt?” came a groggy voice from behind him. Steve turned to see her walking into the kitchen, eyes sweeping over Lydia to ensure she was going to be okay before looking to Steve.

“Looks like she broke something,” Steve waved to the mess on the floor. “I can clean it up.”

“No, you keep holding her. I’ll do it.” She carefully brushed up the pieces of glass and deposited them in the trashcan, grabbing a damp paper towel to finish off the job. “Steve, you’re bleeding.”

"Huh?” Steve looked down to see thin trails of blood running down his kneecaps, apparently from where he had knelt on the floor earlier to check Lydia’s feet. He took a step to the side and left a bloody footprint on the white tile. Apparently he had _also_ stepped on some glass without realizing it, either.

She motioned to the counter. “Here, sit down. Lemme check.”

She pulled up one of the kitchen chairs while Steve hoisted himself onto the counter, snuffling Lydia snuggled close to his side. She gently cleaned away the blood on his knees and inspected the small pricks for glass, but found none. She did the same with his feet, pulling out a tiny sliver from one cut but otherwise finding nothing else. She used a few band aids on his toes and the heel of his left foot to stop the bleeding.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be healed from that in just a few minutes.” He was touched she was that concerned, though.

“I don’t want you trailing blood all over the place,” she answered flatly, and that little bit of Steve that had felt special deflated instantly. Then she cast him a smile. “But I would’ve done it, anyways.”

Steve felt a little better after that, rocking Lydia back and forth against him as he slid off the counter. “What did you want the glass for, huh Lyddie? What were you tryin’ to get?”

“Wanted chocolate milk,” the little girl replied sucking on her thumb. Steve smiled and kissed the top of her head. She was adorable.

Lydia snuggled further into Steve, and Steve glanced up to catch her smiling at them. “Here, Lydia. I’ll make you some chocolate milk. Want any, Steve?”

“Sure, I’ll take some.” He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down heavily, groaning in exhaustion. He hadn’t even babysat for a whole day yesterday and he was already beat. Damn it, Sam.

She slid a small (plastic) cup onto the table, which Lydia grabbed with eager hands. Steve helped steady it as another, taller glass of chocolate milk was set in front of him, and then she was plopping down in the chair across the table, smiling crookedly at the picture of Steve trying to prevent any more spills that morning.

“What?” he asked, curious as to what she was thinking. She shook her head.

“Nothing. Just…you’d make a good parent.”

Steve smiled graciously, grabbing his own chocolate milk as Lydia set her cup down and rested her fiery head on Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah? So would you, y’know.”

She smiled. “You tired, Lydia? You want to go back to bed?” The little girl nodded, and Steve searched for a clock. It wasn’t even seven in the morning. Geez, kid. Why did she have to wake up so _early_?

“Good, me too. C’mon, I’ll take you back upstairs. Steve, you wanna take the bed for the rest of the morning? I’m going to stay up at this point anyways, and if you’re on the couch in the living room I’d only keep you awake,” she explained further when Steve went to decline.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

The three of them made their way up the stairs, and she and Lydia stopped off by the twin’s room as Steve made his way to the master bed. She had offered to take the couch last night since Steve was tall and would barely fit on it, but he had ended up passing out before she had even put Cynthia to bed. Steve was relieved she hadn’t tried to wake him, actually, because he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to make it up the stairs last night.

He opened the door to the master bedroom quietly, only remembering at the last minute that Cynthia’s crib was in here. He flopped as silently as he could onto the big mattress, sprawling contentedly on top of the warm spot she had left from getting up only a few moments before.

He was asleep again before Lydia was.

%%%

When Steve woke the second time that morning, it was to the sound of running feet and rampant laughter. He dragged his head off the pillow and looked to check on Cynthia. Not there. She or Sam must have picked her up while Steve was still sleeping. It didn’t surprise him; a herd of elephants could’ve walked through the room and he wouldn’t have woken in the slightest.

He grimaced at the puddle of drool beneath his cheek, hoping it had been Sam to grab Cynthia and not her. That would be attractive. He stumbled out of bed and made his way downstairs, almost tripping and falling down the last few steps when Charlie came charging up the staircase with syrup on his shirt.

“Steve!” he shouted, gleeful eyes way too awake for this early in the morning. “Falcon! Let’s play Falcon!”

Steve’s body sagged at the thought. “Not now, Charlie. I gotta eat first.”

“Okay!” Charlie called, already racing past him to his room. The door slammed and the entire upper floor shook.

“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty. So nice of you to join us,” Sam greeted as Steve entered the kitchen for the second time that morning. Steve gave a tired grunt and looked down at the plate of bacon and French toast that was shoved at his chest.

“You’re one to talk, Sam, considering you only got here from sleeping at your own house ten minutes ago,” she said, already turning back to the stovetop as Steve’s brain finally process that he should take the offered plate. He sat heavily in one of the available chairs that was not covered in toys or cheerios or multiple redheaded children, methodically shoveling the food into his mouth. It was still too early to appreciate good food. He just needed fuel.

“Dude, nice boxers,” Sam teased, and Steve just blinked at him. He couldn’t remember being this bad during a morning since probably sometime during the war. Apparently, dealing with kids was worse than fighting the Chitauri. Though not as bad as Germany, it would seem.

No, Steve was pretty sure he dealt better in the mornings even _during_ the war.

“Coffee?” he inquired, mouth half-full. Sam rolled his eyes in amusement.

“Yeah, over there,” he made a vague gesture, and Steve groaned at the thought of having to get back up. Luckily, she came to his rescue.

“Want any milk or sugar, Steve?” she asked. She was weaving in between kids, flipping bacon, plating French toast, and pouring coffee all at the same time, pausing every now and then to grab the plastic bowl Cynthia kept throwing off her high chair right before it hit the floor with ease every time.

She caught him staring and smiled in amusement. “Practice. Lots and lots of practice.” She set the steaming cup of coffee down in front of him. “What did you say? Cream? Sugar?”

“No fank ‘ou,” he mumbled out around a mouthful of delicious French toast. He didn’t know how she did… _any_ of this. Both he and Sam (though mainly just himself) looked like a train wreck. But here she was, pretty much running the house like it was no big deal.

Charlie came sprinting back into the kitchen, skidding to a halt inches before running into where Justin was pouring approximately half a gallon of syrup onto his bacon.

“Alright there, kiddo. I think that’s enough.” Sam appropriated the bottle of syrup and began pouring some on his own French toast, eyeing the Barbie doll that was currently half-submerged upside down in his cup of orange juice.

“What’re we doing today?” Justin piped up, seeing how many strips of bacon he could fit into his mouth at one time. Currently, he was up to four and a half. Kid had a big mouth.

“Steve?”

“…Hm?”

“Do we have any _plans_ for today?”

Steve stopped chewing, trying to think. Did they have plans for today? There was something he was supposed to be remembering, clearly, though he couldn’t quite…

“Oh, yeah.” He swallowed. “D’you guys want to see a baseball game today?” he asked the four kids.

The resounding cry was unanimous. “Yeah!”

“Cool. That settles it. I’ll buy the tickets later,” he mumbled. His bank account could withstand it, with the amount of money SHIELD had been pumping into it since he had woken up. Even _if_ SHIELD had been shut down recently…

“Nice.” Sam cheered along with the kids. “What do we do until then?”

“Hide and seek!” Cynthia piped up, and no matter how tired Steve was, he had to smile. The child was precious. Besides, that didn’t sound like a bad idea. He could probably hide beneath the covers of his bed for a good fifteen minutes before any of them found him…

“Okay, Steve, you count first!” and just like that the four kids had scattered, Sam cramming his last bites of food in before running after them, probably to enact Steve’s exact plan.

Steve groaned, and she laughed at him as she tidied up after breakfast. “Poor you.” Her tone wasn’t entirely sympathetic, and Steve didn’t let himself feel too guilty for scowling at her. Especially when it got her to laugh and she patted him on his bedhead.

“I’m sure if you count really loud now, you can go hide with Sam in the bed for at least ten minutes before any of the kids wonder why they can’t hear you searching.”

Steve looked at her gratefully, then began counting loudly. “ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR…” There were giggles from around the household.

He helped pile the last dish next to the sink while he finished counting. “…TWENTY-EIGHT, TWENTY-NINE, THIRTY. Here I come!” He turned to run out of the kitchen.

“Oh, and Steve?”

He turned back to her.

“Nice boxers.”

He finally looked down at what he was wearing. What had Clint called it? Nyan Cat?

“…Thanks,” he muttered, embarrassed, before he was gone.

%%%

“ORIOLES, ORIOLES, GOIN’A SEE TH’ ORIOLES.”

Steve barely refrained from lifting his eyes to heaven as Charlie kicked the back of his seat for the fourth time in as many seconds. At least he had shotgun. Sam was stuck in the middle row, crammed in next to the rambunctious redhead, with Cynthia sitting directly behind him and hitting the back of his head with her sippy cup. “Or’oles, Or’oles!” she chanted along with her brother.

There was a flash from his left, and Steve opened his eyes to see her texting on her phone and smiling down at the screen, clearly having just taken a picture of the car.

“Lemme see,” he reached for the phone.

She finished typing and hit _SEND_ before handing it to him. She had barely fit Steve in on the left of the photo as he sat with his eyes screwed shut and a grumpy expression on his face. Sam sat behind her, desperate expression on the half of his face that was visible as he tried to break up a fight between Lydia and Justin in the backseat. Charlie was obviously yelling and both his feet were on the back of Steve’s seat in the picture, and Cynthia looked as pleased as could be as she smacked Sam in the ear with her pink plastic sippy cup. She sat in the driver’s seat, orange baseball cap pulled low over her eyes but wide grin unmistakable as she made a thumb’s up gesture with the hand that wasn’t taking the selfie.

The text below it read: _So excited to take them to see my favorite team! LET’S GO O’S!!!_

Steve handed back the phone with a glare. “You’re terrible.”

She smiled pleasantly as she hooked up her phone to the car’s auxiliary cord. “I’m wonderful.”

“Hey, can we get some music please?” Sam begged from in the back, trying to hold both of Lydia’s hands in one of his so she would stop slapping her brother.

“Already on it,” she called back, turning the stereo up and shifting the car into drive. Steve recognized _I Can Go the Distance_ from Disney’s “Hercules” as they pulled out of the driveway. Pepper had made him watch it not that long ago.

“Disney, huh?”

She beamed at him. “Disney music never fails.”

Sam chimed in from behind them. “Just nothing from that _one_ movie, alright? I’ve heard enough of it to last a life—”

“I wanna hear ‘Frozen’ next!”

"Awwww,” Sam moaned, looking close to tears. “Please, God, no.”

%%%

They were back in the nosebleeds. Steve had given the three club-level tickets he had originally purchased to a random woman and her two kids, who had been ecstatic to get such great tickets—and from Captain America and the Falcon, no less.

Plus, by being in the nosebleeds again, they wouldn’t be drawing attention to themselves with who they were.

“I want cotton candy!” Charlie yelled. The group a few seats in front of them cast them an unimpressed look.

Well, they didn’t draw _as much_ attention.

“Actually, cotton candy sounds like a great idea,” she said, catching the pretzel Lydia had just let go of.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Justin said.

“Me too!” Charlie agreed. Steve sighed.

“Alright, how ‘bout Sam and I take you two to the bathroom, then we get cotton candy for all of us?”

“Man, why do I have to go?” Sam grouched, but Steve just gave him a sharp look and motioned with his head to come along.

“We’ll be back,” he called back over his shoulder.

“We’ll be here,” she answered, watching Cynthia toddle off down the empty isle and getting up to chase after her. “Probably,” she added on.

Sam and Steve waited by the sinks while the boys used the toilets. Steve checked around, making sure no one was nearby and speaking low enough so the sound of flushing toilets would cover his words.

“So…you know that _problem_ that we talked about last week?” he asked Sam with a pointed eyebrow raise. Sam raised his eyebrow in return.

“Yeah? What about it?”

Steve checked to make sure the boys were still out of earshot when he said, “You do realize that having to babysit may make taking care of that… _problem_ a little bit difficult, right?”

Sam cringed, looking truly regretful. “Man, I’m sorry. I really wasn’t thinking when I offered to babysit. I mean, I like the kids and all, but all of it has been a little…” he trailed off with a grimace.

Steve nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know.” They watched as Justin came out, the boy frowning when the motion-sensor on his sink faucet wouldn’t work. “Luckily I’ve been too exhausted and too busy for it to have been much of a bother these last twenty-four hours, but still…I was lucky this morning when I came down in just my boxers that nothing was going on.”

Sam threw his head back in a laugh, and Steve shot him a glare.

“What? Yeah, I know that’s _nothin’_ I wanna see, and that would really be awkward if any of the _kids_ saw that. But still. Y’gotta admit that it’s at least a _little_ funny.”

“What’s a little funny?” Charlie asked as he exited his stall.

"Your hair, that’s what’s funny,” Sam ruffled Charlie’s hair and the boy giggled, ducking out of the way. Steve waited until they were standing in line for cotton candy and the boys were distracted by the machine to say anything else.

“So…what do I do if…something comes up around the kids?” he asked Sam, who shifted his weight as he thought.

“Well, you could take some time at my house, I guess. Just say you need an hour to yourself, maybe, and leave it to us. No one would think anything of it, considering all three of us are gonna have to take some time alone at some point.”

Steve nodded, thinking. “Right. And just hope I get done all that I need to in that one hour and pray that nothing _pops up_ the rest of the day? Perfect. What could go wrong?” Sam barked out a laugh before paying for the cotton candy.

“You could stay at my house during the nights, too. Use that time for yourself.” Sam was sidetracked by a Dippin' Dots cart. “Ooh, yes!”

Steve groaned. “But what about during the day? Nights aren’t gonna be a big deal, ‘cause no one’s looking at me then and I don’t have to worry about nobody _noticin’_. It’s the daytime when I have the most trouble.”

Sam paid for a single cup of the ice cream treat before turning back to head for the stands. “Steve, it’s only for two—three more days. How hard can it be?”

Steve gave him an exasperated look. “It can be _very_ hard, thank you very much.”

Sam chuckled to himself as Charlie and Justin raced up the stairs ahead of the two men. “Yeah, I had that one comin’ for me. Look. I’m sorry this is so difficult, and I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help. If I think of something, I’ll let you know. And I know it’s not what you wanna hear, but until we’re done babysitting, it looks like you’re just gonna have to grit your teeth and bear it. Just hope that these kids get you tired out enough all the time that you won’t have to worry about it.”

“Worry about what?” she asked as Sam handed her the Dippin' Dots. “For me?”

Sam nodded. “Yep. And nothin’. We were just talking about work.”

She took both the treat and the explanation readily, catching the guys up on the (very little) that had happened in the game while they had been gone. “And we’ve made a new friend,” she pointed to where the girls were currently feeding a crow bits of pretzel.

Steve sat back down and let out a grunt when Justin immediately hopped into his lap with a jump, getting cotton candy all over both of their shirts.

“Ever tried this before, Steve?” she asked him, holding out her cup of freeze-dried sprinkles, or whatever they were.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. Are they any good?”

She rolled her eyes at him, offering her spoon. “‘Are they any good?’ he asks. Here. Try.”

He took the spoon and the cup, closing his eyes in appreciation as the sweet flavors hit his tongue. “Mmm.” He handed the snack back to her.

“Right?” She took a big spoonful for herself, tongue twirling around the bowl of the utensil to get every last dot. Steve’s face went red.

“Uh, Justin, you’re feeling a bit heavy there. Mind hopping off? Thanks, bud.” Sam barely hid his smirk behind his hand. Steve barely refrained from strangling him.

“Want some more?” She offered the treat to him again, all innocent smiles and pleased hums.

“Ah, thank you.” Steve almost dropped the spoon this time as it was handed to him. Oh dear Lord. This was torture.

Just then, one of the Orioles made a big hit. The crowd, including her, jumped to their feet, cheering and hollering as the player sprinted around the bases. It ended up being a triple, and two runners get batted in on the hit.

Steve took a moment to adjust himself, having to turn down little Cynthia when she asked to sit on his lap, too. “Maybe later, sweetheart. Not right now.”

Steve looked up to see her excited face and groaned internally when his pants began to feel even tighter.

And it was only the third inning.


	8. Chapter 8

You put the car in park and let your head fall back against the headrest. Your ears and nose were tinged pink from being in the sun all day, but you felt relaxed and happy. Glancing back in the rearview mirror, you smiled. They were all asleep, including Sam. Well, that was easy.

You turned your head to the seat next to you. Steve was passed out with his forehead against the window, mouth hanging open slightly as he breathed gently in his sleep. His hair was pressed down from where it had been in his baseball cap all day, trying to hide his identity. He had wisps of cotton candy stuck to his shirt and a few pretzel crumbs across his lap. You shook his shoulder gently.

“Steve. Steve, wake up. We’re back. Steve.”

He groaned and stretched, barely fitting in the car as he tried to spread his arms above his head. His muscles tensed and relaxed beneath his skin, sliding smoothly along his big frame. You heard a yawn behind you and turned to see Sam completing the same stretch, head rolling on his neck to get the cricks out. The rest of the kids remained unconscious.

You ducked out of the cramped car and bent to touch your toes, coming back upright to reach for the sky as your back complained of sitting too long. You walked around the other side of the car to get Charlie, gently unbuckling his car seat and lifting him from the vehicle to take inside. You fought to get the keys in the lock before opening the door, immediately trekking up to the twins’ room to deposit the sleeping child on his bed. You came down the stairs to find Steve carrying Lydia in the same manner up to her own bed. He smiled sleepily at you as he passed, and you patted him on the arm before heading back out to get the next child.

Justin had woken long enough to stumble inside and Sam was grabbing Cynthia from the back. Turning back around, you held the door for your friend before going into the kitchen to find a drink. A few minutes later and Sam and Steve were there too, slumped deep into their seats and fighting to keep their eyes open.

“Did you guys have a good time?” you asked, joining them at the table and propping your feet in Sam’s lap. Sam just grunted, letting his eyes fall fully shut.

Steve mumbled something into the tabletop and you smiled softly. Looking at the clock, you decided it was late enough to just let the kids sleep. They’d be up early tomorrow, but there was little point in waking them up now when you’d just have to put them back to bed in a few hours.

“I think I’m gonna head back to your place Sam for a shower. Do we have sleeping arrangements for tonight?”

Sam sighed heavily. “Since I took the night off last night, either of you can stay at my house tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room here. Steve?”

Steve moaned as he picked his head up off the table. “Wha?”

You smiled and suppressed a giggle. He was cute when he was sleepy. Then again, he was just cute no matter what. “Do you wanna sleep at Sam’s place tonight?”

He blinked a few times, before muttering, “Sure,” though you didn’t know if he had actually processed what you said or had just agreed.

“Cool. In case you were asleep when I mentioned it, I’m going to his house to shower, since that’s where most of my stuff still is. Care to walk with me?”

He perked up considerably. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll come along.” He let out a big yawn that both you and Sam echoed, before Sam went out to make the couch up for the night.

"Jeez, Steve, how’d you fit on this thing?” Sam frowned at the ugly chartreuse upholstery and tested the springiness with a finger. He winced as he heard the metal of the springs creak at that tiny bit of pressure. Steve snorted.

“I didn’t,” he answered with a near-scoff.

You and Steve left Sam to his couch and walked out the front door. The sun was sitting just above the horizon and the clouds way up in the sky were highlighted a yellow-gold as the two of you strolled the short way to Sam’s house. A few neighbors waved from their porches as you passed, and a couple jogged around you with their happy dog in tow. Steve held open the front door to Sam’s house and gestured you inside, following in after and going immediately for the fridge. You chuckled as he grabbed for the milk then went to the pantry for the Swiss Cake Rolls.

“We have a convert, I see. Welcome to the side of the Light,” you joked, and he grinned.

“If I get fat now because of these, I’m blaming you.” He pointed one of the rolls at you and you took it from him as you walked by.

“You mean you’ll be thanking me, right?” you corrected, ducking into Sam’s guest room to grab a change of clothes.

You tried not to take too much time in the shower, relaxing for the first time in what felt years, but was really just hours. Damn. Kids were a handful. And as much as you had enjoyed today, you were certainly looking forward to when spring break could truly be a _break_ again.

You emerged from the bathroom not too long after going in, though who could really blame you if you had spent the first few minutes simply standing there? You snatched the mint chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer, grabbing two spoons and plopping down on the couch pressed right next to Steve. He stiffened and you went to put a little space between you, but he seemed to relax again quickly enough.

“Ice cream?” you offered him a spoon. He took one with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“You trying to get me fat on ice cream now, too? What was that stuff called again that we had at the game today?”

“Dippin’ Dots?”

“Yeah, that. That was good.” He scooped a large spoonful of the ice cream, and you watched as he savored the taste before finishing it. It was sweet (literally) how much he appreciated all the little things around him. He seemed like such a real, down-to-earth guy for a superhero and celebrity. And the way he just rolled with everything, like getting a spontaneous job babysitting four crazy kids, was downright impressive.

You grabbed one of the Swiss Cake Rolls from his lap. You could work off the extra calories tomorrow.

Finding the remote, you turned on the TV and flipped through random channels for anything that caught your eye. You stopped on some country music video station, dropping the remote with a shrug when Steve looked at you. “Nothing much on, I guess.”

The two of you sat in contented silence, alternating between the ice cream and the rolls for a while. “Do we have any plans for tomorrow?” he finally asked at length.

You sat back and shrugged. “Dunno. Guess we could just sit and relax at the pool for most of the day, probably. Maybe walk down the block to the playground with the see-saws and ropey-thing if they get bored. Hopefully after today they won’t be too desperate for any big adventures.” She eyed him, amused. “We could also play more hide and seek.”

Steve laughed. “We’d have to find another hiding spot though where we could all fit horizontally, since Justin was pretty mad when he found Sam and me hiding under the covers after I fell asleep and didn’t come looking for them.”

“I saw they have a pretty big bathtub in the master bathroom. We could pile some blankets and pillows at the bottom, and the three of us adults could curl up in there and lock the door while the kids played. Pretend like locking the door was an accident.”

“Except they’d probably break down the door before we even fell asleep. That does sound pretty cozy, though.” Steve speculated the pros and cons to sleeping in the tub. It might be a snug fit, but they could probably make it work.

The two of you sat and chatted happily for a while. It was another two or more hours by the time you realized that you were supposed to be back babysitting. Sure, Sam was there, but you had told him you would be there too, and Steve was probably ready for you to leave so he could sleep but just too polite to say it. Together, you had finished off the ice cream and most of a frozen pizza, and there was a considerable dent in the bag of Cheetos Sam had insisted on. And you had no regrets.

You grabbed some clothes for the next day and your toothbrush and made your way to the door. “Alright Steve, see you tomorrow. Hope you get some sleep!”

“I know _I_ will. I’m not sure about you two, though. Wake me if you need help.” He waved to you as you walked back down the street, and you couldn’t help but smile when you noticed he remained watching out the front window until you had made it into the other house, even though it was only a few driveways away.

Sighing in tiredness, you closed the door quietly and trekked past a snoring Sam and up the stairs. You poked your head into each of the kids’ rooms to make sure they were all asleep. Cynthia was also still asleep, thankfully, and you were able brush your teeth and use the bathroom without waking her. Finally you crawled into bed, snuggling into the cool covers. You inhaled deeply, smiling when you realized that the sheets, which smelled spicy and like man, must be what Steve smelled like, since he had slept here last. Well, wasn’t that a pleasant thought to fall asleep to?

It wasn’t long before your breathing was evening out and sleep began to call you, and you happily surrendered to the welcoming darkness.

%%%

You weren’t sure of the time, but whatever it was, it was _way_ too early for anybody to be crying.

You groaned as you looked over at the crib on the other side of the room. Cynthia was standing up in it, arms reaching out to you to come and hold her. You fell more or less upright out of the bed and stumbled over, picking her up and smelling her pull-up. Yep. Time for a change.

You went to work, quickly cleaning the mess and quieting her continued sniffles with hushes and kisses to her toes as she held her legs in the air. The sniffles turned to giggles, and she cooed up at you and reached for your nose. You made a funny face as she grabbed it, throwing away the dirty diapers and playing a quick game of patty cake to entertain her. The clock by the bed said it wasn’t even six in the morning yet. Swallowing a sigh, you smiled down at her before scooping her into your arms and making your way out of the bedroom. Goodness. You knew that after going to bed so early last night the kids would wake up early, but you had no idea it would be _this_ early. Dammit.

You checked in each of the other rooms as you went. Justin was awake and quietly playing with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures in his room, face lighting up when he saw you in the doorway. “Waffles?” he asked with enthusiasm.

“Sure, we can do waffles,” you said. Cynthia raised her little fists high in the air beside your head.

“Waffles!” she cried in victory, hands clapping as Justin did some action move like he had seen on TV. You chuckled.

“Okay, my little turtle. Go on downstairs and wake Sam. Gently, though. Don’t pounce on him.” Justin raced off, skipping the last three stairs and landing on the first floor with bent knees, still playing Ninja Turtle. A thump, followed by a loud groan, indicated that he had forgotten your warning about “no pouncing”.

You peeked into the twins’ room to find Lydia still asleep, half on top of a wide-awake and very grumpy Charlie. Charlie made a face at you when you saw them, obviously unhappy with the arrangements but still unwilling to wake his sleeping sister so that he could get up. You set Cynthia down on Lydia’s abandoned bed and lifted the bigger girl off of Charlie so that he could tumble to the floor and run out the door. A second big thump and a slightly softer (though no less pained) groan alerted you to the fact that Sam had obviously gone back to sleep following Justin’s earlier attack and had just been reawakened by Charlie. Good. Served him right.

You carried a dozing Lydia down the stairs, holding Cynthia’s hand as she slowly navigated her way down the steps. The boys were playing in the kitchen and Sam was still on the couch, pillow over his face as he valiantly tried for a few more minutes’ extra sleep. You set the two little girls on his chest, his sound of despair turning into a contented sigh when they both cuddled into him and curled up like cats. His arms came up to wrap around them both, and for a moment you felt bad about waking him up to get him to make breakfast.

But only for a moment.

You grabbed an apron from the kitchen (a pink and yellow frilly thing) and dangled it directly in his face. “Okay, Sammy. You’re on waffle duty.”

He snatched the apron from you with a tired glare, gently urging the girls to the floor so he could stand. He tied the apron around his waist seemingly without registering the basket of kittens doodled on the front and stomped into the kitchen. The three of you giggled.

The sun was just fully rising and the birds were singing on the branches outside the kitchen windows. Charlie was chasing Justin around and around the kitchen table before Justin would turn and chase him, and you maneuvered one of the chairs to a safe spot before sitting down. You watched as the kids played a while and Sam prepared breakfast, then reached for your phone on the kitchen table to check for any messages.

There was one from the department chair about revising a student’s schedule; a couple from old college friends asking if you were free during break since they knew you were a teacher; a bunch from your niece who had just gotten a phone, now that she was a big ol’ fifth grader and apparently _needed_ a phone; one from your brother apologizing for all the texts from your niece; and one from Annette in response to the picture you had sent her the day before.

You opened the message from Annette to see another picture attached. It was of her and Michael, sitting at a picnic table with sunglasses and hats, wineglasses held aloft and a beautiful sunset on the beach behind them. And making their way right up to the picnic table…

**_Had some kind NEIGHbors that wanted to visit during dinner. Glad to see everyone having as much fun as we are! Hope your team did well!_ **

Ah, so they had gone to either Chincoteague or Assateague Island for their little beach getaway. The islands were known for their wild horses, and the pretty mare and foal in the background of Annette’s picture must have decided to come say hi to the visiting couple during their meal of…was that crab? Of course it was. The wine looked pretty fancy, too.

You smiled ruefully to yourself. You’d have to show this picture to Sam and Steve when the kids were busy, make the two of them feel bad about not getting to sit back and relax like the lazy bachelors they actually were. They’d probably be most jealous over the wine at this point, wanting to forget the hassle that was being a “responsible adult” in charge of four wild children.

“Can we go swimming today?” Justin yelled in your ear, causing you drop your phone at the sudden loss of hearing. “Can we can we can we?”

“Yeah! ‘Wimming!” Cynthia cried, dancing around on the floor.

You pretended to think about it, turning to Sam as he poured the waffle mix into the waffle iron. “Hmm, I don’t know. What do you think, Sam? Should we swim today?”

“Yeah!” the four kids shouted, now jumping around Sam to try and encourage him to agree. “Swimming!”

Sam shot you a glare as Lydia repeatedly hopped up and down on his foot. “Sure. Let’s go swimming,” he ground out, sounding positively _thrilled_. The kids cheered, rushing up the stairs to presumably get changed.

“Wait—guys! We haven’t even had breakfast— _guys_!” Sam called after the stampede, resting his weight heavily against the counter as you heard the pounding of feet up the stairs. He turned to look at you, and you just gave him a shrug, like, _Kids. What can you do?_

He sighed as he grabbed plates for the waffles, sending a glance over to where your phone lay on the floor from where you had dropped it earlier. “Send a text to Steve, will you? ‘m sure he’s not up yet, but ask if he’ll bring over my swim trunks when he wakes. Oh, do you have his number?”

Sam recited the number off the top of his head to you and you punched it in, shaking your head as you realized that you now had _Captain America_ ’s contact in your phone. You filed it under “Steve Rogers” though. That’s who he was to _you_ , and that felt even _better_ than saying that you knew Captain America.

You shot off a text and set down the phone, grabbing one of the waffles Sam set in front of you and taking a big bite. “Mmm. Decent.”

Sam chuckled, sitting down across from you and digging into his own plate of waffles. “Gramma Wilson’s recipe. Wonderful woman.” He frowned, pointing a fork at you. “You’ve met her, right?”

You paused, thinking back to the two or three Wilson family reunions you had attended with Sam. His family (which was _huge_ ) had practically adopted you as one of them after the first reunion you had gone to, and you now had almost all of his cousins’ contacts in your phone, and his great-aunt sent you random newspaper clippings on a regular basis. Old people were funny. “Uh, yeah. Remember, I had that huge bruise on my cheek for most of a week from where she pinched it because she was so excited since she thought you finally had a girlfriend?” You made a face then laughed. Gramma Wilson was something special, that was for sure.

Sam threw his head back and laughed at the memory. “Oh, yeah. How could I forget? Mom was so mad, thinking I had told Gramma and not _her_ that we were ‘ _dating’_ , apparently. Still just as mad when I explained to her that, really, we _weren’t_. Said I was a disappointment, letting such a great opportunity go to waste.”

You huffed out a laugh around your waffle, easily picturing the scolding face Sam’s normally benevolent mother would have worn for that conversation. What a great family. Your smile turned a bit sad when you realized you had missed this past year’s family reunion.

“How are they?” you asked fondly, pushing a piece of waffle through syrup on your plate. “Was Uncle Barry there?”

Sam shook his head with merriment and exasperation. “They’re good. And oh yes, Uncle Barry was there.”

No one knew how or even _if_ Uncle Barry was related. They all just called him Uncle Barry and kept him in the loop, inviting him to all the reunions and letting him know whenever part of the family was getting together near him. He was always a great time, though, telling wild stories from his prime in the seventies that _couldn’t_ be true, but at the same time just _had_ to be.

“Aunt Tessa took a special liking to Steve when her and the kids came to visit me just last week. Think I’ll bring him along to meet the family during the next reunion this summer. You in?”

You nodded vigorously. “Heck yeah I’m in! If that job offer hadn’t come up so suddenly and inconveniently in the middle of everything last summer, I woulda gone then, too. Know the dates for this year?”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, I’ll keep you in the loop, though. Well, look at you! Looks like we got ourselves a little princess here!”

You turned to see Lydia skipping into the kitchen to take a seat at the table. She was wearing a lavender bathing suit that had a tutu and a decal of Disney’s version of Rapunzel on the front. She beamed at the praise and did a small pirouette before sitting.

Your smile turned into a frown of worry as you realized something. “Wait, if you’re here, who’s helping Cynthia?”

Lydia shrugged nonchalantly, reaching for the sticky bottle of syrup and spilling some on her tutu. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah, ‘uh-oh’ is right,” you muttered, jumping up to run up the stairs. You found Cynthia in the room that was technically hers, the one that held all of her clothes and pull-ups but not her bed. She had her head stuck the wrong way into a light green bathing suit, so that the leg holes were at the top and her bottom half was bare. You breathed a sigh of relief and then a chuckle. “Here, silly goose. Lemme help you with that.”

You removed the swimsuit and helped the small girl step into it. It had a tutu like her sister’s, though Cynthia’s had a picture of Princess Tiana on it instead of Rapunzel. “There. All better.”

“All better,” she repeated, smiling goofily up at you. “Waffles?”

“Yeah, let’s go get some waffles.”

The two boys were sitting at the table in their swim trunks when you got back. Cynthia was repeating “waffles, waffles” over and over to herself as you set her in her high chair, enjoying the fun word and making silly faces at Sam in his frilly apron. Sam grinned at her with a mouth full of food, crossing his eyes and puffing out his cheeks. She giggled and clapped her hands as you sat back down.

“Can we go in the pool after this?” Charlie asked, half-chewed waffle hanging out of his mouth. You sighed.

“You need to wait an hour after eating before you can swim. Let’s see, so when it’s…” you trailed off, searching for a clock. “When it’s 7:30, we can go get ready to get in the pool.” You sighed again it was so _early_.

The kids cheered and you shared a look with Sam across the table. His tired eyes seemed to hold the same question as yours: When would Steve get here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh now I wanna write a sequel about the Wilson family reunion! Already have so many ideas bouncing around about Uncle Barry meeting Whitney Houston or someone before they were big and teaching them "everything they know"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where we finally start to get into more mature, sexy-ish stuffs. No actual sex yet. But just y'all wait. I'll try to remember to add the appropriate tags as I go
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has left comments or kudos on this fic! Makes writing so much easier!

Steve woke at a quarter after ten, feeling well-rested and content.

He checked his phone. There were a couple of texts from Tony about a party in Vegas and that he and Pepper might be married now and how he was apparently godfather to a cow; something from Coulson about an important meeting regarding proper and improper uses of cloning technology on unsuspecting bovines; a link from Bruce to a cute video of a confused kitten repeatedly sneezing; some random selfie of Clint with an upside-down President Obama on vacation in the background (it took Steve a minute to figure out that _Clint_ was really the one upside-down, and was dangling through the ceiling tiles while he captured the picture of himself at the same tropical hotel as the former president and his wife), another, blurrier, picture from Clint of himself grinning while running away from a trio of men in dark suits with earpieces and speaking angrily into their walkie-talkies; a text from Wanda asking what the movie “Fifty Shades of Grey” was about and if he hadn’t seen it yet would he like to watch it with her?; and finally a text from an unknown number.

He opened the unknown, scanning it quickly to make sure it was nothing urgent first.

_ We’re going swimming today. Sam wants you to bring his swim trunks over when you come. Could you also grab my bathing suit while you’re at it? It’s in my bag in the guest room. See you soon! _

Steve grinned. Nice. Now he had her number, and he hadn’t even had to awkwardly stumble through asking for it.   

He looked over to where her bag lay on the floor. He only felt _somewhat_ guilty about sleeping in “her” room last night. It was that, Sam’s bed, or the couch, and while Steve knew Sam wouldn’t have really minded, it seemed kind of rude to sleep in the bed of the owner of the house when the guest room was (technically) open. Besides. The sofa was too small for him anyway.

He got out of bed and stretched, deciding he should find the swimming stuff before he took a shower and forgot about it. He knelt in front of her open suitcase and rummaged through it. He saw a bright colored strap and pulled, face heating when he realized he was holding a lacy bra instead of a swimsuit top. He stuffed it quickly to the bottom, trying his best to forget he ever saw it and _obviously_ not imagining what she would’ve looked like in it because he was sure it looked absolutely _stunning_ on her frame—

Mornings were always the worst for his…problem.

Steve cursed to himself as his morning wood twitched with interest at the thought of the bra. He was so used to waking up and just going, usually being called out on a mission or just needing to be into work early, that he often ignored it until it went away on its own. Dealing with it every time he popped a stiffie got to be _tiring_. Especially considering how frequently he would have had to “deal with it” if he chose to do so every time it happened.

He continued searching for the swimsuit, finding a black strap of a slightly different material and pulling that out…until it turned out to be a thong, and he crammed it back down. Why did girls even wear those? They looked so _uncomfortable_. They also looked pretty _hot_ …

He shook his head, gritting his teeth as his boner somehow got even harder. Dammit. He groaned, rifling through the bag and messing up the neat piles in his haste to find that goddamn swimsuit. At long last he clutched it in his hand, and he sprang away from the suitcase like it was something vile. He hurried out of the room, tossing the swimsuit on the kitchen table before going through Sam’s room for a pair of trunks. He found an extra pair he decided to use for himself, and set them on the table next to her swimsuit, and how the heck did a piece of cloth get him so turned on? It wasn’t anything particularly racy, and it wasn’t like he was even seeing someone wearing it; no, he didn’t need to see her in it to imagine it, how nicely it would fit over her body, the way it would cling—

What the fuck. He hated mornings. He was better than this. This is why he didn’t let himself get attached to too many women, because whenever he became desperate their image would pop unbidden into his head and dance seductively around in there, and now he was thinking about _her_ dancing seductively around _him_ in _that_ bathing suit and _holy crap_ this wasn’t fair and he shouldn’t be thinking of her like this and this is why you can’t have nice things Rogers get a grip.

Steve growled to himself, deciding a cold shower was in order this morning. Well, he was used to those after the army, when most guys woke up at least once a week with morning wood and had to go to the communal showers to be doused with ice along with everyone else, until they all got used to the sight of everyone’s everything everywhere, and the flagging erections in the freezing water were a common object of shared bemusement as they all felt each other’s pain.

He turned the water as cold as it would go and stripped, staring accusingly at his hard-on like it was personally offensive. Ugh. He needed to get laid. He needed to do what Sam had said and find a girl. Except he had already _found_ a girl.

Except she was currently babysitting four kids, and that’s where Steve was supposed to be too, and hitting on her and offering casual sex in front of a group of children all under ten years old was _not_ a good move as a role model.

He washed his hair aggressively as he thought about the fact that Sam had probably set all this up on purpose, inviting her to stay for the entire week just knowing that Steve would find her tempting and that she would be just what he needed. And not just for the sex. No, no matter how desperate he got, he wasn’t _completely_ shallow. She seemed to like him for him, joked with him, laughed both with and at him, and felt comfortable and decidedly un-starstruck in his presence.

And then Sam had ruined it with his flippin’ babysitting gig. So now there was still the possibility of multiple night of great, relieving sex—just not until Wednesday night.

And that was assuming she even said yes.

And Sam better be right about all this. What else would he be trying to say after inviting her to visit just days after he and Steve had talked about Steve’s excessive libido? He knew that Steve wouldn’t have been able to resist her especially, and while normally Steve would’ve appreciated the thought of Sam helping him out like this…well, the fact that he had _ruined it_ kind of ruined the effect.

Not ruined, though. Just…delayed.

And god. He was still hard. Heaving a frustrated sigh, Steve turned the water from ice cold to burning hot. Might as well get rid of it the fun way.

He put a hand on himself and moaned at the feeling of the still cold skin of his palm on hot flesh. As the water began to heat his hand and the air around him he began to rub, starting slow and light and growing increasingly faster as he gave in to the sensations. He tilted his head back when his fingers circled the tip, thumb dipping into the slit and tugging back the foreskin before sliding back down his length. He traced the vein along the underside of himself and squeezed the head lightly, rolling the pad of his thumb along the leaking tip as the precome was washed away by the water.

His other hand wandered down to cup his balls, massaging them and letting out a pleased sigh at the feeling. He didn’t work to stay quiet; no one else was in the house, so he could be as loud as he wanted and no one would have to know.

No one would have to know, either, what he thought of while he was in there.

He imagined _her_ , sinking down to her knees in that graceful way he had seen her do when taking Lydia down from her shoulders after playing on Saturday. It had been so sensual to watch from behind, and his blood boiled as he pictured how she would look sliding down his front in that same fluid motion.

His hand wrapped around the base of his erection as he pretended it to be her smaller one there instead, pumping slowly and teasing him as she looked up at him with those wide eyes that were full of constant laughter. He imagined her blowing a cool breath over his skin to contrast with the heat of the shower, and just the thought made him shiver. He whispered her name into the empty bathroom, the word echoing off the tile walls surprisingly loudly.

He imagined her smirking as she looked up at him, flicking her tongue out to taste just the tip of him. He fantasized about the moan she would let out at his taste, the way she would eagerly lap at the slit for more. Steve sagged against the wall. Sometimes the strength of his own imagination astounded him, though it always made his dirty fantasies more fun.

He pictured the way her lips would open, just a little at first, to try and take him in. She would quickly realize how much bigger she would need to open her mouth in order for him to fit. Steve was thick down his entire length, and even the tip would require effort to get in.

She would hum once she finally had her mouth full, and _still_ there would be a good deal left of him to take in. Steve could almost _feel_ the vibrations her tongue would make under his heavy weight as she hummed, and she would squeeze the rest of him gently in her hand to make up for not fitting her mouth around all of it… _yet_. She would keep a steady pressure around the base of him to stave his orgasm while she sucked, the motions of her cheeks and tongue pulling his dick further and further down her throat until he was fully encased in that sloppy wet heat.

Steve looked down at himself, picturing what the top of her head would look like as her nose bumped against his abdomen. He moaned her name, loudly, then let out a gasp as his own hand squeezed himself roughly along his middle-length.

She would stay there, cock deep in her throat, hands petting down his muscled thighs and appreciating his built form. Her eyes would be closed as she worked on breathing in and out through her nose, just holding him there in her mouth, in her _throat_ , not even sucking as she took a moment to worship his legs, abdomen, and glutes.

Her hands would travel down from his belly button to where her own nose would be pressed into his flesh; then would bypass her face to drop down to where his balls would be nestled against her chin. She would grab them gently, rolling them between her fingers and moaning around him at the feel of the heavy weight in her hand. Steve’s breath caught as he rolled his balls in the palm of his hand like he was imagining her do it, shamelessly calling out her name into the hot air of Sam’s bathroom.

The moan she would send down his length would be almost too much, and he would throw his head back against the tiles of the shower wall. His hips thrust forward into his hand and he fought off his orgasm for just a little longer. He let out a whimper and grit his teeth, just _wishing_ that she were actually there with him.

Steve imagined her holding still and purposefully swallowing around him, tugging just the right amount at his balls and pushing him to the very edge. What finally made him come was the thought of her fingers, the ones still tracing along the muscles of his thigh, making their way down her body to her pussy, where the wetness that was coming from her was battling with the wetness from the water, and her dipping those fingers into herself and twisting just the slightest bit, barely pumping in and out, so turned on by giving a blowjob alone that she would barely even need to touch herself in order to come.

The world whited out and went silent for a moment as Steve’s orgasm hit, knocking him off balance and forcing the shower wall to support his weight while his knees threatened to give out. He watched as the long spurts of white come gushed forth from his tip, splattering against the floor of the shower before washing down the drain.

He ran his hand along his length one last time, urging out the last tiny rush of semen from his length, before dropping his hand and letting his member fall. His dick hung heavy between his legs, soft but still slightly swollen and just a tad pinker than normal. The same pink he imagined her tongue would be as it gave a few final kitten licks to his tip before she would grin up at him, proud and sated.

He groaned as he shut off the water, stepping out of the shower and reaching for his phone as he toweled off. He jabbed out a text to Sam, then hit send.

**_I’m horny and angry and this is all your fault_ **

Sam would know what he meant. Why else had he invited her? And now, or at least for two more days, Steve couldn’t have her. Not unless he convinced Sam to stay over with the kids one night on his own, which—no. That was never going to happen. Sam may feel bad about the babysitting being a cockblock, but he wouldn’t be willing to take that much responsibility for a night just so Steve could finally experience some sort of relief with _her_. Sam may be sympathetic when it mattered, but he was also constantly on the lookout for ways to be an asshole to his friends. That was just Sam’s way of showing he cared.

Steve was drying his hair as he stepped out of the bathroom.

“Who is— _Jesus_ , Rogers! Put some clothes on!”

Steve dropped both his phone and the towel with a small shout, dropping into a defensive stance as he looked around for the intruder.

Natasha sat with her feet propped on the couch, arms crossed grumpily over her chest as Steve crouched with his junk on full display. Though she didn’t look away, he noticed.

“The fuck, Natasha?” he demanded, bending to retrieve his towel. “What do you want?”

Natasha glared at him, stating huffily, “I was bored, and everyone else was doing something so I came to scare Sam and get some entertainment, but instead I come here to find you jerking off in the shower, then get flashed as you scream like a little girl and drop your last line of defense.” She smiled, and it was evil. “Although I’m not complaining about what I saw. Who’s the lucky girl who gets to have all _that_ , huh? What was that name you were moaning? Was it—”

“You heard me,” Steve growled out. “I’m not repeating it. Any neither will you.” He grumbled his way to the guest room and found some of the extra clothes he kept there. Ever since he and Natasha had shown up on his doorstep that first time, Sam had insisted they both buy clothes to keep at his place since they kept coming back. Well, Sam insisted that _Steve_ buy clothes to keep there. For one thing, Steve had stretched out Sam’s favorite Star Trek shirt. For another, Steve was pretty sure Sam didn’t mind seeing Natasha walking around in his sweatpants.

Natasha called out from the living room. “I’m bored, pay attention to me!”

Steve reemerged from the guest room, this time dressed. “You’re so needy,” he said, throwing his wet towel at her. She caught it and whipped it right back at him, leaving a perfect red stripe along the back of his neck. “ _Ow_!” he complained, rubbing the mark.

“So who is she?” Natasha asked, hopping over the back of the couch and perching on the kitchen counter. Steve looked in the fridge for breakfast. Ah, yes. Leftover pizza from the frozen one he had shared with her last night. Perfect.

“No one you need to concern yourself with.” He moved past her to stick the leftovers in the microwave, scowling when she stole one of the pieces before he could even heat it up.

“Uh-huh. So who is she?” Natasha spoke with her mouth purposefully full.

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?” Natasha finished the rest of the slice in a single bite. Wow. She even put Clint to shame.

“Probably, not, but go ahead and try,” she said offhandedly.

“Fine. I was whacking off to the thought of your dead grandmother’s ghost.”

Natasha made a face. “You know, you almost succeeded in deterring me from asking anything else with that. Nice job. But I said _almost_ ,” she pointed out at the end when Steve gave a little victory gloat.

“Damn,” he muttered, pulling the pizza from the microwave. Natasha stole another piece.

“So, how’d you meet her?” She followed Steve to the table, sitting annoyingly close, whole body turned to him. Steve scowled at his pizza.

“Y’know, I don’t even feel like arguing about this with you right now. If you let me eat my breakfast in peace, I’ll introduce you to her, since you’re so ‘ _bored’_ ,” Steve sulked. Natasha lit up.

“Awesome! What’dya wanna talk about, then? Ooh, I know! Clint send you those pictures of him getting chased by those Secret Service guys? They’re such doofuses. Taking them out would be an actual joke.” Natasha went on about what all their friends had been up to (the reason she felt so bored and “unloved”, she explained), ending with the story of how Coulson had almost burst an artery when he heard about Tony cloning a cow. “He was furious. For a second I thought he was gonna reach right through the phone and grab Stark by the neck and shake ‘im. It’s not the cloning he was so mad about; it’s the fact that Tony kidnapped a random herd of female cows from a farmer in Iowa to do so, and now what's left of SHIELD has to cover everything up and pay the damages done to the roof of the barn from where he beamed them up like some cheap sci-fi film,” Natasha ended with an eye roll.

Steve was mostly tuned out, focusing instead on angrily chewing through Sam’s stock of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Huh. Sam was right. This stuff wasn’t so bad.

When he was finished he brushed his teeth, grabbing the swimsuits off the table. “You have anything to swim in?” He asked Natasha. She shrugged and left for the guest room, coming back with a tank top and pair of shorts that would apparently work as her swimsuit should she decide to join them. “Alright, let’s go.”

They set off down the sidewalk on the short walk it would take to get to Annette and Michael’s house. Steve caught her up on how they had ended up in the babysitting situation (“Hey, this time it was Sam, not me,”) and explained how Sam had invited a friend to visit and was now part of their babysitting group. “And thank God, too. Sam and I have no idea what we’re doing.”

Natasha snorted as they made their way down the correct driveway. They heard splashing, yelling, and laughter from behind the house, and decided to go straight to the backyard. Steve smiled at the sight of the kids having fun. Despite the somewhat rough start to his morning (he deliberately did not think of his morning as being _hard_ , thank you very much), today looked like it would be a pretty great day.

           


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking longer to update this chapter, guys. This one's a little longer to make up for it, and also I wanted to have some sexier times from the reader's perspective after getting Steve's shower time in the last chapter, but I had to get through what they did all day first before I got to the fun stuff.
> 
> Hopefully getting to the really smutty smuttiness pretty soon, maybe chapter 11 or 12.
> 
> Thank you for the continued comments and kudos! Please feel free to leave more, they give me life to write!!

Justin was having a blast doing twists and flips off the diving board, showing off for you as you clapped and applauded. The smile on his face was big and proud, and his red hair hung in his eyes as the water plastered it to his forehead every time he emerged from the depths.

The twins were in the shallow end of the pool with their floaties, working on their doggy paddle. The shallow end started pretty shallow, and they were able to stand near the far edge of the pool. You and Sam sat with your legs swinging in the water near them, Cynthia sitting between your own legs, little feet barely tapping the water as she pouted.

“When can I go in?” she asked for the umpteenth time.

“As soon as Steve gets here with the swimsuits; then Sam and I will be able to go in and carry you.”

She looked around again like she did every time you gave this answer, as if talking about him would suddenly make Steve appear. While you and Sam had been able to distract the kids with toy trains long enough after breakfast to allow for more sunlight to make the water less cold, it had still been close to an hour already that the other three kids had been in and out and in and out of the pool. You could understand the little girl’s impatience. Where _was_ Steve, anyway?

You felt a buzz by your hand and picked up the phone. Squinting at it, you realized it was Sam’s phone and not yours.

“Sam, you got a text,” you told him.

“Who’s it from?”

You shaded the screen with your hand. “Steve.” Cynthia perked up at the name.

“Alright, what’s it say? That lazy boy comin’ over or what?”

You opened the text and froze.

This was…unexpected.

Sam looked up when you didn’t say anything. “What? What is it?”

You handed him the phone, not saying anything. You didn’t need to tell him, “I think this was meant just for you,” as he read the text.

**_I’m horny and angry and this is all your fault_ **

You tried to hide your disappointment. For one thing, you thought Sam would’ve _told_ you that he was in a relationship, and this sounded like it was fairly serious so far. For another, apparently Steve wasn’t single like you had believed, which meant…well, best not to dwell on the past. You should be happy for the two of them.

Sam burst out laughing next to you, and you gave him a curious look, intrigued as to how he would try and explain it or break the news of his relationship to you.

When he kept laughing, you frowned. Exasperated, you decided you would have to be the one to start the conversation. “I’ll keep it a secret, y’know. If that’s why you didn’t tell me. Because you don’t want the media freaking out about Captain America being in a relationship and all. I can’t imagine all the paparazzi you guy’s would have just going out on a date, that would really—”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” Sam wheezed, and your frown deepened. Oh, really? What _was_ it like, then?

“Steve’s just, Steve’s just—” Sam mouthed what looked to be ‘ _sexually frustrated_ ’ over Cynthia’s head, and you frowned. Wait, _what_?

“He’s been—he’s been havin’ a hard time since waking up. He’s lonely, really, is what it is. And no, not just—” he gave you a pointed look, “—in _that_ way; he’s lonely all the time, pretty much. Doesn’t have a lot of people he connects with. So, while _yeah_ , he does have a lot of…pent up frustration, he’s also looking for someone to just spend time with. Though he does seem to need a helping hand pretty badly, if you get what I’m saying.” He raised his eyebrows and looked at you. It took you a moment to figure out which half of that to address: the “friend” part, or the “helping hand” part. You decided to go with the route that was safest for little ears to overhear.

“ _Sooo_ …does he consider me a friend?” you asked, truly curious. Sam smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d say he does.”

You nodded, looking off to where Justin was doing a pencil dive into the deep end. Sam spoke again.

“That’s one of the reasons I invited you, specifically, this week. I knew you guys would get along, because you’re good at rolling with things and you’d treat him just like any other person, which is what he sorely needs. I’ve seen him after someone’s recognized him at the mall, or a supermarket, or anywhere, really, and afterwards…man. It’s like he just _deflates_. He needs someone who can make him laugh, who also isn’t afraid to laugh _at_ him; someone he doesn’t have to keep his guard up around all the time; someone that can help him to feel more _human_ because he spends all his time having to act like a _legend_.”

You looked at him, impressed. “You write that down first, or was that just off the top of your head?”

He knocked you in the shoulder and grinned, sitting back with an easy smile. The two of you spent a few moment in silence, feet swishing gently through the water as you watched the twins have a splash fight. One thing was still on your mind, though…

“Is that the only reason?”

Sam looked up from where he was apparently deep in thought. “Is what the only reason?”

“Is that the only reason you invited me? So I could meet him, and be his…friend?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Naw, man. I invited you so _I_ could spend time with you, too.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Flattered.” You paused. “No, but really. Is there any… _other_ reason you wanted me to be friends with Steve?”

Sam gazed at you long and hard before sighing. “I guess I should really know better than to think I can get away with tryin’a set you up without you sniffin’ me out, huh?”

“Aha!” you cried victoriously, pushing him roughly to the point where he almost fell in the water. “Knew it!” Sam wrinkled his nose at you and stuck out his tongue before smiling.

“So,” he asked, eyebrows waggling. “Is it working? You gon’ be givin’ Golden Boy some sweet lovin’ tonight?”

You pretended to glare at him, jutting your head sharply in Cynthia’s direction as she sat obliviously in your lap. “Well, I _might’ve_ been, if _someone_ hadn’t made previous arrangements for us.”

He snickered at you and patted you on the shoulder. “Well, there’s still time. Fear not.”

You were silent a bit until a sudden realization hit you. “So…his text. Is he—does he…? With _me_? Is that why he’s…? He _knows_ you’re trying to set him up?”

_And it’s working?_

“Oh, yes. Yeah, he was pretty irked with me yesterday for getting us into this little…job, especially after meeting _you_.”

You gaped. Were your ears working? Did you just hear that right? Steve Rogers had the hots…for _you_?

Sam was laughing at your slightly lost expression. “Yeah, he does, and yeah, you should go for it. At an appropriate time, though, of course.”

As his words sunk in your awe turned into irritation, and you smacked Sam. Hard.

“Darn you!” you said forcefully. “I could be…! Right _now_! With…!” You hit him again.

“What could you be doing right now?” Steve called out, closing the gate to the pool behind him.

You gaped at him, worried for a second on how much he may have overheard, but recovered quickly. “I _could_ be swimming, but _somebody_ decided to take their grand old time in bringing me my swimsuit.” You glared pointedly at the bundle in his left hand.

“Steve!” Cynthia cried, running up to the big man and holding up her arms. “Airplane! Airplane!” Steve slung the swimsuits over his shoulder before he lifted her up and tossed her in the air, catching her with a happy grin.

“What? You don’t call it ‘Falcon’ too?” Sam asked dejectedly.

A redheaded woman that you hadn’t noticed standing at Steve’s side smiled. “Not everything has to be about you, Sam.” She extended a hand to you. “Hi. I’m Natasha.”

You took her hand and shook it firmly, introducing yourself with a smile. You grabbed your swimsuit from Steve’s shoulder and walked towards the house. “Be back in a bit!” you called behind you, and if you put an extra little sway into your hips as you moved, well, no one had to know that it was on _purpose_.

Sam was already changed and back out there by the time you came back to the pool. Lucky boys, only have to shuck off their pants and pull new ones on for swimming. You passed Steve as he made his way into the house to change, and you smiled brightly at him as your shoulders brushed. You swatted lightly at his ass as you passed, making it seem like you had just accidentally touched it as your arms swung while you walked. You felt his gaze on you but refused to turn around, acting like you hadn’t even notice that you had “accidentally” touched him. Leave him to speculate.

Now that you knew about his attraction to you, you felt like it was time to have some fun with him. Like Sam had said, you would treat him just like any other person. You weren’t above making _Captain America_ a little hot under the collar and nervous, when given the chance.

And it looked like a golden opportunity had just fallen straight into your lap.

%%%

“Sam! Sam! Watch me! I’m the Falcon!”

Justin leapt off the diving board with his arms spread wide, eyes at the sky like he were really going to be continuing upwards and fly off into the clouds. You winced as gravity took effect and he fell to the water in a belly flop, arms still spread wide and body parallel to the water.

Justin came up laughing and cawing, swimming out of the way as Lydia did the same as her brother and pretended to be the Falcon, too. The kids took turns like that for a good ten minutes until both of the boys’ bellies were red with the repeated slapping of the water, and you were sure that beneath her swimsuit Lydia’s stomach was the same.

Cynthia laughed in your arms every time one of her siblings did a belly flop, calling “again, again” and holding her arms out just like they were. Steve held onto the side of the pool at the deep end, helping Lydia and Charlie when they got tired and ensuring that their floaties stayed on and inflated.

Cynthia kicked you under the water in her excitement, and you stopped walking around the shallow end of the pool to stand her on one of the steps. The water only came up to her belly on the step, but she still stood on her tip-toes and held her breath in big puffy cheeks, like she expected the water to rise at any second. Her floaties bumped into her sides as she moved her arms like she was swimming, and you made a fishy face at her and did the same motions.

Sam and Natasha sat side-by-side on a pair of the lounge chairs on the deck of the pool, chatting casually and making jokes to each other. They both looked relaxed and happy, and you smiled as Natasha waved at you. She seemed pretty chill.

You laughed as Charlie, Justin, and Lydia came out of nowhere with squirt guns, going for the only two people who remained dry. Sam ducked for cover behind Natasha, who laughed and picked up Charlie before jumping into the deep end, both of the redheads giggling upon resurface. Cynthia squealed and waddled her way up the two steps and out of the pool, grabbing the squirt gun Charlie had dropped and toddling after Sam, who was trying to wrestle both Justin and Lydia at the same time. Charlie came out of nowhere again, yelling and rushing to jump on Sam just like the others, Natasha chasing after to come to Sam’s aide and make the fight slightly more even.

Watching them made you happy. There was so much joy in the way the two adults played with the kids, carefree and bright, and you moved to join in. 

A pair of hands grabbed you around your waist and lifted you in the air, tossing you backwards into the deeper end of the pool. You came up spitting water at Steve, who still stood in the shallow end, too far for you to hit.

“You just gonna stand there and back away from a fight?” you taunted him.

Steve made a tough-guy face, cutting through the water with powerful strokes and taking you under with a cry of victory before he accidentally swallowed water. You allowed him to regain his breath before latching onto his back and trying to wrestle his head below the surface. His arms moved back to hold you tightly to his body so that you couldn’t wriggle free, and you wound your calves around his thighs in an attempt to paralyze his legs.

It didn’t work of course, but you didn’t let that stop you. The two of you thrashed around in the water a fair bit before you grew too tired to be a very effective opponent. He twisted and brought you both a few feet below the surface, and you grinned at him through blurry eyes before swimming upward. You treaded water purposefully close to him as you each gulped down air, your hands and feet occasionally brushing his in the water and your chests almost touching.

He was grinning at you, and you couldn’t help but grin back.

A wild Lydia suddenly appeared, jumping off from the side of the pool and taking you both down into the water. Steve “sank” dramatically, hanging onto Lydia who “pulled” him to safety. Steve lifted her out of the pool with ease before hoisting himself up, legs still swishing in the water.

He looked down at you as you swam over to the edge and rested your head against his thigh, holding lightly to his leg to stay afloat in the deep end. He gave you a slightly breathless smile, still apparently “recovering” from his close call with “drowning” (but thank you Lydia for saving this man).

He held out a hand to help you out of the water, and for a minute you considered trying to pull him back in. But no, he was too heavy and you were too tired. He lifted you to sit next to him, thighs and hips touching, and you leaned your weight against his shoulder casually. Steve appeared to smile to himself and set his hand behind you as he leaned back. Your hand had ended resting on his thigh, and your thumb traced a pattern into the dark green of his borrowed swim trunks.

You couldn’t help but notice the trunks were a little, well, _tight_. His tanned quads were well-defined beneath the wet fabric as it clung to him, and you secretly took a moment to appreciate the view before looking back to where Natasha had apparently turned on Sam and was helping the kids “toss” him into the pool. Steve laughed loudly at Sam’s face as the other man flew in an ungraceful tangle into the water, and the rumble reverberated through his chest into your side in a wave of warmth.

Natasha then executed a cannonball from the diving board with an impressive splash radius for a woman so small. You and Steve were in prime splash zone, and you closed your eyes and turned your head away as the water made contact with your body. You opened your eyes to Steve already looking at you as he shook the droplets out of his hair, and you snorted at the wild hair-do it created. He bumped you with his shoulder, eyes remaining on your face even as Charlie called out for Steve’s attention to watch _him_ do a cannon ball, too.

Eventually Steve looked away, and the moment (because you were convinced that it _was_ a moment, and was not just you) passed. Both of you applauded as Charlie came up out of the water, and Sam and Natasha joined the two of you in serving as a panel of judges for the ensuing cannon ball contest the older kids held. Cynthia grew grumpy that she couldn’t participate until Natasha asked about her tutu, mentioning that she used to do ballet.

Natasha then spent the next thirty minutes teaching the two girls the basic ballet positions on the deck of the pool while Steve and Sam underwater-wrestled with the boys and you watched it all from one of the chairs. Grabbing your phone, you snapped a picture of the scene before sending it off to Annette. 

_ Black Widow is teaching your girls how to dance. Captain America and the Falcon are currently getting their butts kicked at wrestling. Looks like your children have some bright futures in ballet and WWE! _

You got an almost immediate response, and you chuckled as you read it.

**_I better not come back to find that Tony Stark has adopted my children and Thor is teaching them to ride ponies. No, wait. That might actually be awesome. I’d want them back eventually, though ;)_ **

Oh, Annette. You couldn’t blame her, though. You crossed your fingers that Clint Barton wasn’t about to suddenly appear and take the kids ultimate laser-tagging. Now, if he were to come and take _you_ ultimate laser-tagging, on the other hand…

%%%

Justin wanted macaroni and cheese for lunch, Lydia wanted grilled cheese sandwiches, and Cynthia and Charlie demanded chicken nuggets. So, you had all three. Plus apple juice.

Natasha made a face at you as both Sam and Steve chowed down like they hadn’t eaten in days. You raised your pouch of Capri Sun in agreement and caught the dinosaur-shaped chicken nugget hurdling for Justin’s cup of juice, turning to make a frowny face at the guilty Cynthia, who tried to wiggle down in her high chair and giggled. Sam happily took the nugget from your hand before viciously drowning it in ketchup and almost swallowing it whole.

You gave a dramatic sigh. “And the mighty tyrannosaurus meets its untimely end.” Steve reached over and grabbed a carrot from your plate, since he knew better than to try and steal from Natasha. “Hey!”

He looked at you with raised eyebrows as he gulped down another grilled cheese sandwich. “Wha’? ‘m hun’ry?”

“Do you always talk with your mouth full?” you accused.

“No,” Steve defended, at the same time Sam and Natasha both said “ _yes_ ”.

You rolled your eyes, starting a game of footsie under the table with him. The eight of you spent your lunch time talking and laughing and generally making a mess of the kitchen, and somehow ketchup ended up on the ceiling, along with multiple macaroni noodles on the window.

Steve was holding your feet hostage between his as the kids finally began calming down some after their meal. You gently wriggled one free and rested it atop his, tapping your toes against him to some tuneless beat. Sam was telling a story to the kids of his niece Gracie and their Uncle Barry, and the time Uncle Barry accidentally popped the moon bounce at Gracie’s fifth birthday party and made the cake explode. You were only half listening, your foot sneaking up Steve’s leg to his calf, toes tickling under his knee and making him jump a little.

He narrowed his eyes at you and tickled your foot under the table. You jerked it away, managing to bang your knee against the underside of the table in the process. Natasha shot you both a curious look, but went back to being fully invested in Sam’s story shortly after.

You narrowed your eyes back at Steve, who was now sitting there with an innocent expression on his face and allowing Justin to stuff an unwanted piece of broccoli down the collar of his shirt ( _damn_ that he had put a shirt back on after swimming). You stealthily allowed your foot to make its way to resting in his lap and he let it stay there, fingers drumming against your ankle in a pattern that seemed quite similar to _Zip-a-dee-do-dah_.

“And so Uncle Barry decided that it would be a _great_ idea to get on the moon bounce with a metal scooter, and…” Sam’s story faded into the background as you concentrated on _slowly_ , _so slowly_ nudging your toes under the hem of Steve’s shirt. He didn’t notice immediately, and it wasn’t until your skin had made contact with his abdomen that he twisted suddenly in his chair.

Sam paused his story, and both he and Natasha were looking between the two of you strangely. “You alright, man? Both of you seem a little…” he trailed off as you waved a hand at him and nodded, Steve mumbling something about broccoli in his pants.

Steve shot you a glare which you saw out of the corner of your eye as you pretended to listen intently to how Gracie had reacted to the exploding moon bounce and cake. But your foot had remained under his shirt, squirming its way up his abdomen until it was planted firmly against his side.

You tapped your toes against the ridges of his abdominal muscles before shooting him a wink and withdrawing your foot, but not without nudging ever-so-lightly against his crotch on the way out.

Steve looked like someone had shot him, and you would _pay_ to be able to see if you had gotten any reaction from his lower half right now. As it were, none of the kids had spilled or dropped anything in the last thirty seconds (of _all_ the times to suddenly be mess-free in this household) and you had no excuse to duck beneath the table and look.

The group of you relocated to the living room after lunch to watch a movie together. The kids chose the animated “The Jungle Book”, and everyone piled on top of or in front of the ugly couch as the music started playing.

You were sitting on the couch with your arm around Justin when Steve sprawled across the entire couch and everyone on it. Natasha grunted and smacked his ass, which was right in her face with where she sat in the middle; Lydia and Charlie giggled underneath Steve’s legs; Justin pounded at Steve’s back with small fists, barely hurting the super soldier despite using all his strength, though he was laughing so you knew Justin wasn’t really trying to get Steve off; and Steve’s head ended up in your lap, where you sat smooshed against the armrest, his face turned so that he could find your eyes and grin. You flicked him in the nose before rolling your eyes and running a hand through his hair. He hummed appreciatively, staying exactly as he was across the five of you on the couch, weight spread out enough so as not to hurt any of the kids.

“Seriously, Rogers. You just gonna lie there?” Natasha demanded. Steve’s smug ‘m _hmm_ ’ turned into a surprised yelp as Natasha used her prime positioning to give the big blonde a big wedgie, and you caught a glimpse of glorious skin beneath his boxers as she pulled them high up his back.

You tried to hide the way your breath caught at the sight of his perfect ass with a loud laugh, which the kids echoed. Sam, who was sitting on the floor with Cynthia in his lap, grumbled as Steve accidentally elbowed him in the head with his jerky movements. Cynthia shrieked with laughter, making Sam only scowl deeper. You gave Natasha a fist bump.

Steve huffed and rolled off the couch to be a safe distance from the Russian spy, resettling on the floor between your legs. He rested his head on one of your knees and you ran your hands through his hair again, unable to resist the soft golden strands and the way they caught the light. His moan of satisfaction made your stomach flip, heart stuttering a moment before settling back into a regular (albeit slightly faster) rhythm.

It was mostly quiet after that as the movie played, with only a few bathroom breaks and requests for more apple juice, which then led to more bathroom breaks.

The movie was at the part where King Louie of the apes and orangutans was trying to convince Mowgli to “ _teach me the power of Man’s Red Flower_ ” and Baloo was having to dress as a monkey in an attempt to rescue Mowgli. The kids wiggled in their seats and bopped around to the music, occasionally singing along and laughing at the monkeys’ antics.

Sam spoke up randomly at one point. “Why does the bear’s voice sound familiar?”

You thought about it a moment before giving your best answer. “I think Disney re-used some of their characters’ voices in different films. I’m pretty sure that the guy who voices Baloo is the same guy that plays Thomas O’Malley from ‘The Aristocats’,” you said.

“Who is Thomas O’Malley?” Steve asked, fingers rubbing thoughtlessly against your ankle once again.

“Abraham de’Lacey, G o-supphy Casey!” Cynthia cried, as if that would be of any help to Steve. The other kids agreed, “yeah!” and Steve just looked more confused. Natasha snorted.

“Really, Steven? You still haven’t seen all these Disney movies?”

Steve crossed his arms defensively. “It’s not exactly like I’ve had all the time in the world to catch up on this stuff, _Natalia_ ,” he shot back.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, which you were beginning to realize was pretty much her default expression/reaction. “That’s not an excuse. You have a list. Is there anything actually _on_ that list?”

"Yeah, I’ve seen it,” Sam vouched for Steve. “Speaking of, Steve, you listened to the _Troubleman_ soundtrack yet?”

Steve slouched further down in front of you. “No.”

Sam shook his head in quiet exasperation. “Man. Y’gotta get on that.”

“Y’gotta be a cat!” Cynthia added in loudly, making all of you laugh. Even Steve.

%%%

By the end of the movie all of the kids had fallen asleep, and you were ninety percent certain that it should be illegal for someone to touch another person’s ankle so sensuously.

Steve had been tracing his fingers lightly over your foot, around the curve of your ankle bone, and part way up your calf the entire movie. He seemed to do it entirely unconsciously, simply trailing his fingers along your skin with the lightest of brushes that somehow managed to set your skin on fire everywhere he touched.

The worst part was, you couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t just lean down and take a hold of his head and turn it until his lips were pressed to yours—there were children present. Even if there weren’t, you still felt like you hardly knew him well enough to do that.

And that was another thing. Even though you had only met him two days before, he was just _so easy_ to get along with. You could joke and laugh like you were old friends, and had no trouble casually touching him like you would with anyone else you were close to; a hand on the shoulder here, a pat on the back there, a swat on the arm every now and then…you could be very tactile at times.

And so, it would seem, could he.

It’s not like you _wanted_ him to stop touching you. If that’s all it was, you simply would’ve moved your leg out of his reach, gently enough so as not to insult him and make him feel foolish, but far enough so he couldn’t continue to do it. What you _wanted_ was the complete opposite. To have his fingers roam your entire body, discover your every curve and shape and dip and ridge, send trails of electricity sparking beneath your skin.

But you hardly knew him, no matter how much it may feel otherwise. And even though you knew of his attraction to you because of the text (thank Buddha for happy accidents) it still felt a little too much like you were just assuming and preparing to begin pressing yourself onto him. He must have women and men throwing themselves at him _all the frickin’ time_. Even if he was attracted to you, he’d hardly want one more person doing that to him.

You felt guilty thinking about him like that, about imagining taking his lips with yours and just… _ahg_. Better to stop that train of thought now, before it hit full throttle.

You resigned to wait at least one more day before doing anything. Okay, maybe you wouldn’t completely _not_ do anything, but you’d wait at least until after the baby shower Wednesday to fully make your move.

As the credits came to a close you looked around you and saw that Sam and Natasha were both passed out as well, right along with the kids. Natasha had her legs falling over Sam’s shoulders where he sat in front of the couch so that her feet were resting on his chest, and you saw his hand continuing to gently hold onto her foot as he slept. Huh. Interesting. Glancing at Steve, he appeared to be sleeping too, Cynthia spread out half over his lap and half over Sam’s.

You made to gently extract yourself and use the bathroom, but as you began to walk away you felt a hand wrap loosely at your ankle. Looking down, you made eye contact with a drowsy Steve, who smiled lazily up at you.

_I’m just going to the bathroom_ , you mouthed, pointing in the direction of the hallway. He nodded and let go, hand dropping to stroke softly through Cynthia’s wild red curls. The little girl sighed in her sleep, snuggling deeper into Steve’s lap and feet twitching across Sam’s legs.

You made a quick stop in the kitchen after using the bathroom, grabbing a clean glass and filling it with tap water before downing it in one go. You were feeling overheated somewhat suddenly, almost tempted to turn up the AC.

You refrained from doing so and poked your head back into the living room. Shutting the TV off, you glanced at where Justin had stretched out in his sleep to take over your vacated spot. Just looking at all of them made _you_ sleepy as well.

Steve blinked his eyes open and glanced up at you, apparently the only one not fully asleep besides yourself. He looked over his shoulder at where Justin was softly snoring against the armrest before turning back to face you and patting the spot on the floor next to him. Getting down on your knees you shuffled closer, hesitating when you were sitting next to him as to what exactly you were supposed to do.

Steve solved that problem for you, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders and pulling you until your head rested on his chest just below his shoulder. Your hand came up to rest on his stomach automatically, and you curled happily into his side on the carpet. Cynthia murmured something in her sleep on Steve’s lap, and bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead before resettling back in the same position. Steve’s arm stayed around you the entire time, hand running soothingly up and down your sleeve as you let your eyes fall closed.

Steve was warm. Like, _really_ warm. Sitting next to him was cozy and comforting, his big muscles providing the perfect pillow for your body to mold to. His heart beat steady beneath your head, and in that moment you couldn’t deny it: the two of you had chemistry, Steve and you. He obviously felt comfortable with you and liked you a lot, and you definitely felt more at ease with him in getting to know him these last two days than you often felt after knowing something for two _months_. He was kind and sweet and ready for life, ready to _live_. He was eager for adventure, not content with simply sitting stagnant and waiting for everything to come to him. Sure, he was relaxed and pretty easygoing, but he definitely wasn’t lazy or apathetic like so many others. And he was gracious; welcoming and accepting of everyone despite all he had been through in his still relatively young life. You were impressed with how high his people tolerance was, especially considering all the crap he had to endure at press conferences or publicity events or galas or whatever it was that superhero celebrities did. Those events had to be filled with invasive reporters and personal questions and people dissecting every part of his life for their own entertainment. Going through all that and still be able to smile at every new person he met made Steve a superhero by default, never mind all the stuff about Captain America.

It happened right as you were drifting off to sleep, and when you thought on it later, you wondered if you had dreamt about Steve pressing his lips to the top of your head in a soft kiss…

%%%

The rest of the day was easier with Natasha there, enabling one adult for each child. Cynthia woke up crying a few hours after you had joined the cuddle couch, waking everyone up before you took her upstairs to change her pull-up. You came back down to see Steve and Natasha helping build a pillow fort out of the couch cushions and blankets, and Cynthia squirmed in your hold until you set her down, running to the fort with a gleeful giggle.

Sam was in the kitchen, heating left-over mac and cheese for a snack. He offered you a fork and you gladly helped to polish off the food as the two of you sat side by side at the table in silence, listening to the whoops and hollers coming from the other room as the kids had a pillow fight.

Sam finally broke the silence. “You and Steve seemed pretty cuddly when Cynthia woke us all up just now. Shame she felt the need to break up the snuggle-fest.”

“You and Natasha looked pretty cozy, too, I might add,” you pointed out.

He blushed slightly, but didn’t allow you to dodge the question. “So, you gonna ask him out? Because I can guarantee you, if you wait for _him_ to say something, you’ll be waiting a few weeks. Months, maybe.”

“Well I definitely figured he was innocent, but I didn’t think he’d be _that_ shy,” you commented with a small frown.

He chuckled. “Aw man, _no_. No, he is _not_ innocent, let me tell you. But he does have this thing about righteousness and gentlemanly chivalry. Once you get the ball rolling it’s gonna be _rollin’_ ; but it’s actually getting that ball to move in the first place that’s gonna be no small feat.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, frown growing. “Steve Rogers: _not_ _innocent_?” You scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

Sam shook his head. “Not my place to be spilling all of his secrets, but don’t let him surprise you. But you better go _do_ something about it if you do want anything to end up happening.”

Well. You thought it over a moment, trying to decide how much Sam was stretching the truth. You shrugged. “Fine. I’ll wait until Wednesday to do anything major, though. See if he still seems interested at that point.”

Natasha stayed until dinner, helping to finish off the last of the spaghetti before checking her phone and heading out the door with some cryptic comment about Clint, the Secret Service, and bail.

It was your turn to spend the night alone at Sam’s while he and Steve stayed with the kids. You happily made your way back to his nice little house as the sun was setting, a spring storm rolling in over the distant trees and the soft rumble of thunder acting as a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

You decided to take a shower and wash the chlorine away from your time in the pool that morning. A soft sigh left your lips as the warm water pelted your skin. After washing and taking a few extra moments to enjoy the calm serenity of Sam’s house after the hectic day with the kids, you finally stepped out to dry off, just as the storm fully rolled in over the area. It knocked the power out, though you were quite content to light some candles and enjoy the rest of the evening alone in the dark as the rain splattered against the windows in a soothing melody.

You were laying on the couch in the living room watching the storm when you got a text from Steve.

**_Hey. The power out at Sam’s house too?_ **

_ Yeah. Any of the kids scared of thunder or lightning? _

_**Cynthia is, and Charlie is pretending not to be but he’s definitely a little uneasy. I’ve been telling them that it’s just Thor battling some dark dragons and saving the day, and that it means he’s winning and that we’re safe** _

_ Smart. Is it working? _

_**Yeah, they’re now all looking out the window trying to spot the dragons and cheering for Thor every time there’s lighting or a particularly large beat of thunder** _

There was a picture attached to the message of the four kids pressed against the big front window, staring up at the sky and pointing. You smiled. They were adorable.

Another picture came in. It was a selfie, timed perfectly so that a flash of lightning was acting as just the right amount of light to see Steve’s face by. He was smiling sheepishly at the camera, head ducked a little as he held the phone out and above him.

You grinned, quickly snapping a selfie and shooting it off to him, focusing mostly on your face and checking to make sure your eyes were open and you didn’t have a double chin. It was actually a pretty good picture of you, you thought.

That’s when you remembered: you were still only wearing a towel. It was all you had put on after your shower, seeing as no one else was around and you had been more focused on finding matches and candles than getting dressed once the power had cut. You held your breath as you waited for a response, torn between typing a quick reply to apologize/explain that you hadn’t been thinking, and worrying that anything you tried to say would only make it worse.

His text came in just a short minute later.

**_Damn_ **

You let out a silent gasp in surprise at the one word. Was that a good ‘damn’ or a bad ‘damn’? Did he like what he saw, or did he think it highly inappropriate?

You sent back a reply before you could think on it too much, deciding to divert the attention away from the photo and to something else.

_ Oooh, what would the country think if they knew Captain America had a potty mouth? Especially while babysitting! _

You grit your teeth, beating yourself up for the past two days and everything that had led up to this moment. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. Hopefully he would take the bait and lead into a new conversation and forget about the picture. Even though it was probably stuck in his phone forever so he could laugh at it. Your phone buzzed.

**_Screw the country. Who cares about them when I got a beautiful dame sending me pics like that?_ **

Holy.

Hell.

Was Steve Rogers… _flirting_ with you?!? Over text? Apparently he wasn’t quite as shy as he was in real life, but damn, this was certainly unexpected.

You quickly scrolled back through your text convo to view the picture again. Looking it over, you decided that, yeah, it actually _was_ a pretty good photo. While you had been primarily focused on your face when you sent it, the towel slung over your torso left just the right amount revealed without being too raunchy, and the shimmer of the candles in the background gave the dark room a romantic and enticing glow. All in all, it wasn’t too bad. Nothing he hadn’t already seen at the pool today, and with the way your eyes were looking into the camera with genuine (and ignorant) innocence dispelled the vibe that you were intentionally trying to seduce him. Or something.

Still, you were highly embarrassed, and felt the need to tell him so.

_ I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I took the picture. I didn’t intend for it to be…you know…like THAT. I was just taking a selfie since you had sent me one too *smacks forehead* Ow _

Wow. Smooth.

**_What, so are you saying you don’t want me to see any of that? ;p_ **

Did Steve just use an _emoji_ with you?

You took the winky/tongue-sticky-outy face as a sign that it was okay to send a flirty response back.

_ Why? You gonna be disappointed if I say “yes”? _

**_Well…_ **

_ Hmm. Too bad you’re stuck over with the kids tonight. Otherwise you might get to see all of this in person _

You held your breath again as you hit SEND before you could change your mind. You had to take some risks to get what you wanted sometimes, right?

When Steve’s text came in, you weren’t disappointed.

**_Fuck, doll. Sam ain’t gonna let me leave him here_ **

_ Do you have any idea how hot it is to imagine you cussing? _

_**Is that so?** _

**_Tell me more_ **

You smirked as you read his demand. Time to let him down easy. For tonight, at least.

_ Another time, maybe _

_In person_         

You waited a moment before adding on:

_ Nighty-night! _

You got up to blow out the candles in the living room, taking some to the guest room and placing them on the bedside table there. You decided to forego putting pajamas on as you glanced at your suitcase in the corner. Looked like Steve had some trouble finding your swimsuit that morning, if the messy pile of clothes on top of it were anything to go by.

You dropped the towel on the floor as you climbed onto the bed, thinking over the events of the day. Primarily the events involving Steve.

You found your hands running up your thighs as you pictured Steve in his too-small swim trunks from that morning. The way the water dripped down from his hair onto those broad shoulders. You imagined chasing the drops with your tongue, licking over those perfect abs and across those swollen pecs, his bright blue eyes even brighter as they shone with lust watching you crawl over his wet body.

Your fingers traced up and down your slit as you imagined him flipping the two of you over with his powerful body so that he lay atop of your naked form. The press of his heavy weight down on you, his thick member rubbing hot against the inside of your thigh as he slowly lowered himself until your breasts were pushed snugly to his chest. You brought a hand up to your nipple, tweaking the bud and pinching the pert nub between your fingers, wishing it were his fingers instead.

You imagined him kneading your breast, holding it in his big, hot hand. Steve would lower his face to hover over yours, teasing you with thinking he was going in for a kiss before veering off to lick hotly below your jaw. He’d leave nips and scrapes down your throat to your collarbone, sucking at the skin until it was bruised and proclaimed to all what the two of you had been doing.

His large fingers would make their way down your body slowly, finally arriving at your center as you pushed your hips upwards into his hand. In real life, your hips were pushing up into your own hand, legs spreading wider with the imagining of his form lying between them.

You let your middle finger slip between the lips of your slit, running from entrance to clit and back again, repeating the motion until you were humming into the empty room. The candles cast wavering shadows on the walls and the thunder shook the windows, and you suddenly wondered if Steve were lying in bed thinking about you.

As your middle finger dipped inside of your entrance, you pictured Steve spread out naked, imagining the same fantasy you were. You thought of the way he’d bite his lip as he pictured thrusting his thick finger into your core like you were doing now, and your breath caught as you brushed at your insides for the first time in far too long. Your thumb worked its way to your clit, rubbing over the swelling bundle briefly before circling around it.

You worked a second finger into yourself, imagining what it would feel like to have Steve’s longer, calloused ones pumping in and out, grazing your g-spot and making you moan. You thought of what he might look like right now just a few houses down, hips thrusting off the bed and into his hand as he pictured this fantasy right along with you, strong thighs straining with his movements and groans falling from those pouty lips that you longed to kiss.

Your thoughts followed this path of imagining Steve as he imagined you, and you whimpered with the image of his thumb rolling along his tip as he whispered your name. You wondered if he was cut or uncut, and just how thick he was. You pictured him sliding his length into you, cock swollen and red as the head caught on your entrance before pushing all the way in.

You had the middle and pointer fingers of both of your hands inside of yourself now as you rolled your head against the pillows, trying to get as much thickness as you could along with width and length. Your thumb still pressed against your clit at random intervals and with varying pressures, thinking about how Steve would do it.

Sam had said he wasn’t as innocent as you thought he was. You wondered just what Steve knew. Would he flip your body over beneath him, taking you from behind with your legs spread to allow him to lay on top of you, his flushed nipples pricking against your back as he thrust relentlessly into your tight core? You pictured Steve picturing _that_ , hand moving faster over his big cock as he thought about the cries of pleasure you’d let out underneath him, nipping at your ear and whispering all those dirty words to you.

Thinking of how he’d sound dirty talking made you moan loudly, at the same time as a loud crack of thunder shook the house. You thrust your fingers into yourself harder, a slight edge of pain accompanying the push and making it that much better. You wished you could see what he looked like jerking off to the thought of you. Would he be holding his balls in one hand and his cock in the other? Would he play with his nipples as he imagined slipping his hands beneath your body to grab at yours from where he was pounding in from behind? Maybe he was an ass man, and would slip a finger into your hole as he relentlessly filled the other one with his hot come, semen pouring out of you as he continued to thrust through his orgasm. You imagined him imagining that too, pushing to a finger into his own ass while he pictured the sight of his dick repeatedly filling you over and over as a scream burst forth from your throat at the same time your orgasm hit.

You allowed yourself to scream in real life as you climaxed, thankful for being alone in the house and that the raging storm outside would cover any sounds of your cries the neighbors might normally have heard on a quieter night. You pinched your nipples one last time as you pictured Steve gasping out your name as he came while thinking of you, dick pulsing in his hand and ropes of come shooting up to land on his glorious pecs as he imagined finishing in you and your sobs of relief at finally finding release with him inside of you.

You fantasized that he would take care of you afterwards, cleaning you up and holding you close, whispering sweet nothings into your hair as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

The storm faded away outside as your head fell to the side on the pillow, eyes finally shutting as the last flickers of the dying candles danced across your naked body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what'dya think? Should we see more Natasha in the next chapter, too?


	11. Chapter 11

Steve woke with an impressive hard-on, no surprise there. He groaned as he looked across the room where Cynthia was sleeping unsuspectingly in her crib. It wouldn’t be right to jerk off with a child in the room, sleeping or not.

He grumbled to himself as he rolled out of bed and made his way to the en suite bathroom. He had been so turned on last night after his text conversation with her, but had been unable to do anything about it. And the more he tried not to think on it, the more he did, and the more his dick hurt with the need to find some _relief_.

Steve turned on the shower with a huff, beating himself up for all the things he had said over text the night before. He’d somehow found the confidence he normally lacked with women when he didn’t have to talk to them face to face. Goddamnit. He worked so hard at being polite and respectful all the time when in person, even if he just wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her senseless. But as soon as he had started texting, all his usual composure had gone out the window and he’d allowed himself to say things he’d normally be horrified to say to a woman he wasn’t already intimate with. Something about not having to face her reactions to his words in person just seemed to make the consequences less real. That was dangerous. He needed to be more careful

He turned the water on cold, determined this time to will his erection away and not give in like last time and jerk off to the thought of her. It wasn’t so much that he felt incredibly guilty about thinking about her when he touched himself; on the contrary, after she had showed so much apparent interest in him throughout the day yesterday, he felt quite eager to get off to the thought of her. But Cynthia was still asleep just a few feet away in the other room, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

After an aggravatingly long time in the cold shower as he waited for his erection to finally flag, he stepped back into the bedroom, pulling his athletic shorts from yesterday on without any underwear. He’d make his way to Sam’s house at some point this morning to change into clean clothes. This would do for now.

Cynthia was conveniently just waking up as he pulled his pants on so he went over the little girl’s crib, stroking her hair gently until she was blinking up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Hey there, little princess. How you feeling?” he cooed to her. She rubbed her eyes blearily, holding her arms tiredly up to him to be held. He picked her up, smelling her pull-up and making a face at the stink there. “Guess it’s time to get you changed, huh? Alright then, let’s do this.”

He changed her diaper and was pulling out a fresh set of clothes when he realized she probably needed a bath. Not feeling qualified to give a child this young a bath (what if she got shampoo in her eyes and went blind? What if she tried to eat the soap and _died_?) he decided to wait for a more knowledgeable person to come along. He took the little girl downstairs in just her diaper, running into Justin watching cartoons on the couch on the way to the kitchen.

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and his phone, smiling down at whatever he was looking at on the device. Steve set Cynthia in her high chair until she began to whine, apparently not wanting to be put down yet. He sighed heavily, picking her back up as he went to dig for a box of cereal. A plastic toy dinosaur fell into his bowl as he was pouring, just like the thousands of toy dinos Justin seemed to own that were in a perpetual state of scatter across the living room. Cynthia made a happy noise, grabbing the green triceratops from his bowl before Steve could really think about it.

Breakfast was a relatively subdued affair, with Justin popping into the kitchen to grab a Pop Tart before going back to his cartoon, Sam and Steve quietly sipping coffee at the table, Cynthia chewing on the toy triceratops’ legs, and both the twins apparently still asleep.

Sam stood at length and stretched, letting out an impressive yawn before picking up his dirty coffee mug and depositing it by the sink. “I think I heard a noise coming from the twins’ room; I’m gonna go make sure they’re okay.” He turned to go out of the kitchen.

"If they’re still sleeping, let them stay that way,” Steve called after him. He could use as much quiet time as possible.

Cynthia continued to chew her toy and tugged randomly on Steve’s hair, stealing the occasional sugary morsel from whatever brand of kids cereal he was eating. She held tightly to his naked bicep, small form nestled comfortably in his lap in the middle of his big embrace. He dropped a quick kiss to the top of her head before going back to his cereal. He could really get used to this, he thought. A happy, slow morning filled with cuddly children and an open day ahead of him.

That was when Lydia came rushing down the stairs, trying to jump down the last few steps but flailing and landing hard. There was a pause before she began crying: loud, unhappy sobs echoing throughout the first floor before Sam’s footsteps came rushing down the stairs.

“Hey Steve?” Sam called, sounding pretty worried.

Steve sighed internally, pushing his chair away from the table and propping Cynthia on his hip. “Coming,” he called.

Lydia had snot and tears running down her red face, one hand holding her head and the other holding her ankle. Sam squatted next to her, warm hand gently prying her fingers from where they cradled her head and checking for any blood. Steve was grateful not to see any, though he knew that didn’t mean that there wasn’t any internal damage that had happened.

Sam looked up at him concernedly. “Go back to my house and grab my first aid kit, will you? I’ll do a quick check and get some ice, but it’ll be good if we had some ace wrap for her ankle. I’m hoping it’s just a sprain.”

Steve nodded, walking directly out the front door, barefoot and shirtless and still with a half-naked Cynthia. Oh, well. It was a small neighborhood; guys worked out or played games shirtless around here all the time, and Cynthia was still young enough that it wasn’t a big deal, especially considering this was a bit of an emergency. He walked quickly back to Sam’s house, walking right in since the front door was unlocked.

She was coming out of the bathroom just then, dressed for the day with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth as she blinked sleep out of her eyes and focused on whoever had just burst into the house.

“Stheve, hai,” she managed around the toothbrush, bringing a hand up to wave. She blushed a little bit, either at the thought of their text conversation last night, the sight of him shirtless, or maybe both.

Steve walked forward quickly, depositing Cynthia into her arms. “Lydia had a bad fall and Sam asked me to get his first aid kit. We’re hoping it’s nothing too bad, but he wanted to wrap it up and stabilize it.” He talked as he searched around the house, remembering that Sam kept his rather extensive first aid kit in the hall closet. He searched for the red box amidst the clutter and pulled it out, turning back to see Cynthia trying to take the toothbrush from her mouth and swap it with the dinosaur.

Steve took Cynthia and handed her the first aid kit instead. “Here, you finish brushing real quick and run this over to Sam and Lydia. I’ll bring Cynthia in a few minutes when I’m changed.”

She nodded, turning back to the bathroom to spit in the sink as Steve entered into the guest room where he kept spare clothes. He made sure Cynthia was occupied as he quickly pulled on a clean pair of underwear and jeans, grabbing a t-shirt and light jacket before scooping the little girl up and heading back over to where Sam and the kids were.

Lydia was still on the floor, held in her embrace as Sam tenderly poked at her small ankle. Steve was concerned to see that Lydia’s ruddy face was now white with pain, and the girl looked close to passing out. Lydia was sniffling as an ice pack was held to her red hair, pained whimpers breaking Steve’s heart as he watched Sam try and gently turn the girl’s foot.

“OW!” Lydia cried out loudly before the tears began once more. Lydia nuzzled back into her, and she kissed the child’s head and held Lydia tightly in her arms.

Sam sat back and looked between her and Steve. “I think that it’s B-R-O-K-E-N,” he announced solemnly. She nodded as she held the little girl tightly, glancing down at the rapidly-swelling ankle with a grim expression.

“Okay. I’ll drive her to the H-O-S-P-I-T-A-L, you two stay here with the others. Sound good?”

Sam and Steve nodded. She was the only one Lydia would allow to carry herself out to the car, but once placed into the car seat Lydia started crying even louder. The girl seemed to realize that being in the car seat meant being in the back while she was up front driving, and Lydia apparently didn’t want to be separated even that far with the intense pain.

“How about Sam or I drive, and you sit in the back seat with Lyddie?” Steve suggested. Sam was quick to shake his head.

“Dude, neither of us are good enough with kids to be left alone with all of the other three for multiple hours.” The three adults shared a tired glance. None of them wanted to say it, but it had to be said:

“We’re _all_ gonna have to go.”

%%%

Despite Lydia’s obvious pain, it took them nearly half an hour before they were able to get on the road to the hospital. Steve struggled to get Cynthia into some clothes while Sam fought to get the car seats correctly in the car, cursing to himself when he realized that he had put Justin’s larger car seat up in the middle row instead of Lydia’s who would obviously need to be separated from the others and closer to the adults for comfort. Steve rushed to grab some snacks and juice boxes for breakfast for those who hadn’t eaten, knowing that if they didn’t have food on the way, _all_ of the kids would be having a meltdown right along with Lydia. Sam had to forcibly remove Justin from where he was planted in front of the TV, the boy not understanding why _he_ had to go to the hospital if _Lydia_ was the one with a broken bone, and generally acting unsympathetic to his crying little sister.

She held Lydia on her lap in the kitchen while the guys worked to get things ready, comforting the redhead and singing softly. Whatever she was doing was working in keeping Lydia calm, though Steve was still less than pleased with how pale the girl was and the amount of bruising already showing up along the swollen ankle.

At last, Justin, Cynthia, and Charlie were crammed in the far backseat with snacks and games and extra diapers; Lydia sat behind the driver’s seat and she sat in the center middle seat right next to the girl; and finally, Steve sat in the passenger’s seat while Sam drove.

It was a good forty-five minutes to the hospital on a good day. This was already _not_ a good day, though. Being spring break, everyone was out and about in D.C., going to museums and seeing the memorials and the cherry blossoms. The traffic (already bad enough because this was the _District of_ frickin’ _Columbia_ , mind you) was terrible with all the extra people around. It ended up being closer to an hour and a half by the time they got to the hospital, and they were all at their wits’ end.

The three kids in the back had gotten along fine for the first twenty minutes, munching quietly and each playing with their respective toys. Cynthia had then asked for a sippy cup, thirsty after all the salty pretzels Charlie had shared. Cynthia had spilled all over herself when Sam had gone over a surprise pothole, and had naturally started crying at the uncomfortable sensation of wet clothes and sticky hands. She had leaned over the back of the seat in order to dab at the spilled juice on Cynthia’s clothes as the small child bawled in her ear.

Meanwhile, Justin and Charlie had gotten into an argument over who got to play with the toy dinosaur Cynthia had dropped. Charlie said that since the dino had fallen in his lap, _he_ got to play with it, while Justin claimed older sibling status and first rights to all dropped toys. Their regular bickering had escalated into a sideways fistfight as they tried to get the best angles they could on each other from their car seats, Justin landing a few good blows to the smaller Charlie before any intervention could take place. She had received a good few kicks and stray punches as she leaned over the seat to clean Cynthia up, resulting in her jostling sideways into Lydia’s car seat.

Lydia, who had been doing an admirable job of holding it together, expectedly broke down again as her broken ankle was bumped and her already injured head hit against the car door on the same side it had hit the floor. Lydia joined Cynthia in bawling loudly, the tension in the car from their fighting brothers only adding to the two girls’ misery.

She had asked then that Sam pull over and had rearranged the seating. Justin and Charlie now sat on opposite sides of the back seat with the middle seat empty between them, and neither could reach the other physically, though they continued to taunt. Cynthia now sat behind Steve, meaning all three females were squished in the center row as she comforted the hurting Lydia again and Steve did his best to turn around in his seat and take Cynthia’s mind off her sticky situation until she could do something about it.

Just as she was getting Lydia to calm down again with a juice box of her own and Steve was beginning to coax a few stray giggles from a sniffling Cynthia, Charlie began complaining that he had dropped his toy and couldn’t reach it. When she didn’t respond to him right away, focusing on getting Lydia to a better place, Charlie began whining loudly, prompting Justin to make fun of the “crybaby” and throw rainbow goldfish across the car at his brother. Charlie had responded in kind with his mini Oreo cookies, finally gaining the upper hand by squirting his Sunny D on Justin until the older boy was also whining and beginning to cry.

Some of the Sunny D made its way onto Cynthia, who started whimpering and sobbing again at the unwelcome wetness that soaked her red pig tails, _again_. The drink also ended up across her and Lydia, making the older girl’s lip begin to quiver as the unfairness of the world all turned on the small child. Sam received a cold squirt to the neck and Steve ended up with a soaked shirt. Those Sunny D bottles had an impressive capacity for distance when wielded by a pro, such as Charlie.

Now all four kids were crying, and the only one the three adults felt any ounce sympathy for was the injured Lydia. Justin and Charlie were shouting from the back, Cynthia wouldn’t stop trying to grab onto her sleeve to get her attention to get dry, and she was trying to ignore the youngest child in favor of helping out the pained Lydia. Steve was getting tired.

“Okay everyone, settle down,” he said firmly in his Captain’s voice.

There was a slight lull in the noise from Charlie, Justin, and Cynthia, before they were back at full volume. Steve sympathetically took Lydia’s tiny hand in his to show the girl he wasn’t upset with _her_ crying. Sam tried next.

“Guys, Steve asked you to be quiet.”

 It was the voice Steve had only heard Sam use against Hydra goons, and Steve knew that he was also struggling to keep a lid on it.

This time, the kids didn’t even give any indication at having heard him. Charlie began to spiral into full-on temper tantrum, kicking his feet hard against the seat in front of him, which happened to be Lydia’s seat. With each of his rapid kicks, the hurt child let out a pained scream, struggling to gulp in air around heaving sobs. Charlie’s tantrum only grew, Cynthia wouldn’t let her go or leave her alone, and Justin was wailing loudly about how “it’s not fair”.

“ENOUGH,” she finally yelled, out-screaming the kids and getting all of them (even poor Lydia) to stop their noise.

Steve looked at her, a little surprised and a little relieved. Maybe a little bit awed. The kids obviously respected her the most, and not just because she had yelled the loudest; it was because they _all_ (including Sam and Steve) knew that she was the best babysitter out of them and actually knew how to treat and handle kids. Meaning she also knew when enough was enough, and when it was time for “no more Mr. Nice Guy”. She was also the kindest to the kids and the most supportive when it came to their crazy adventures or ideas, so when _she_ said it was time to stop, then it was time to _stop_. And now was that time.

She turned to Lydia, who sobbed into her arms as she ran a hand over the girl’s hair. It took her nearly fifteen minutes to quiet the child down after that fiasco, with both Sam and Steve murmuring words of encouragement or praise at how strong she was and how brave she was and how proud they all were of her. Other than that, and the occasional sniffle from the other children, the car was dead silent.

When Lydia had calmed down she turned to Cynthia, finally able to complete the task of working to dry the girl off. She managed to expertly change the squirming child into a dry diaper, though they had no other clean clothes for Cynthia to wear so she was wrapped in Steve’s thin hoodie.

The back seat of the car was a mess as the boys sulked, and she continued to ignore their randomly-timed whines and complaints to comfort Lydia. Steve was leaning over the back of his seat the best he could in the cramped car, singing softly in Gaelic to Cynthia to try and keep the unhappy child as content as could be.

When they finally arrived at the hospital almost thirty minutes later, Steve jumped out of the car to find a small wheelchair. She unbuckled Lydia and gently set her in the wheelchair, squeezing the little girl’s hand tightly before grabbing the handle bars and beginning to push. She turned to Steve when she got right outside the sliding doors.

“A trip to the emergency room with a broken bone will probably take anywhere between two and four hours, depending on how busy it is. Why don’t you guys go to the cherry blossom festival or something? I don’t think any of the kids would do good inside a museum today, so best to keep them out in the fresh air. It’s not worth it for you to drive all the way back home and then back here. Cynthia’s gonna have to be put back into her clothes, though. Good luck.” She cast Steve a sympathetic look over her shoulder before pushing Lydia inside. Steve went back to the car, sliding into the front seat and looking up at the fuzzy ceiling with barely-contained exasperation.

“So. Now what?” Sam asked as they pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

“Well, she said to stay in the city, that hopefully the ER visit won’t take long—err, won’t take _too_ long. Maybe go see the cherry blossoms and whatnot? She said it’d be best to stay outside, keep the kids from feeling cooped up.” He gave Sam a helpless shrug.

Just then they passed a McDonald’s. “Ooh, I wanna Happy Meal!” Charlie cried, pointing at the golden arches. Cynthia perked up, and Justin ducked his head to look out Charlie’s side of the car.

Steve just turned around in his seat, giving Charlie a blank stare. The boy shrunk back some in his car seat at Steve’s unimpressed look.

Sam glanced back at him in the rearview mirror, and Charlie tilted his head down in shame. “ _Dude_. You really think you deserve a Happy Meal after all that?” Sam shook his head in disappointment as he watched the road, making it clear to the boy that it was a rhetorical question and didn’t require an answer—his earlier behavior had been answer enough.

The drove around for thirty minutes looking for parking. When they finally found a spot in a crowded street, Steve practically fell out of the car, long legs cramped after all the time in the tiny vehicle. He groaned as he stretched, arms lifting high above his head and shirt raising to reveal a bit of skin above the waistband of his jeans. The motion caught the attention of some pedestrians along the sidewalk, multiple of whom slowed in their walking to appreciate his built form and chiseled physique. Steve’s arms dropped quickly with a blush, turning back to the car before any of them could hopefully recognize him. Still, his supersoldier hearing caught more than a few whispers of “ _Captain America_ ” behind his back as he opened the back door and squatted to unbuckle Cynthia.

It took a long time and no small amount of screaming to coax the child back into her wet clothes. Her temper tantrum drew even more attention to Steve, who seriously regretted not bringing a ball cap or sunglasses with him today. He groaned at the thought of all the celebrity blog and news articles he was sure to see the next day: “Captain America: Worst. Babysitter. Ever.” “Captain America: A Father?” “Captain America Spotted with a Young Child; Who’s the Mother?”

At last all three kids were dressed and standing on the sidewalk. All five of them had wet splotches on their clothes, and Justin and Charlie had Oreo crumbs and goldfish in their curly hair. Steve sincerely wished he had a stroller for Cynthia, because he just _knew_ she would tire out right away and need carrying. Sam looked severely pissed off with life, and Steve was certain he had pretty much the same expression on.

They set off along the sidewalk, roaming around the city between all the major monuments and big lawns. Cherry trees lined the white sidewalks, many of the blossoms stomped into the pavement from where they had fallen off in last night’s storm. All in all, it was rather disappointing, and the kids quickly lost all interest.

They were sitting by the Reflection Pool, trying to ignore all the phones and cameras pointed in their direction as sightseers stopped to snap a photo of Captain America, the Falcon, and their three kids. Great. Now all the magazines were going to be speculating about him and Sam being secretly married and having adopted kids, and why had he kept it a secret for so long, and did he plan to adopt more kids, and where were the wedding pictures and how was the honeymoon?

Sam pulled out his phone from his pocket when it buzzed, shading the screen to see what the notification was. Steve looked grumpily around them at all the people just staring at them, not trying to hide his discontent. A few people off in the direction he was looking at scampered away at his less-than-pleased expression, and he gave a bit of a satisfied grunt at having had that effect on their spectators.

“Hey, so she said they just got the x-ray back and it looks like it’s a clean break, should be easy to set and get a cast on. Says the paperwork is going to take a bit longer, though, since she’s not the legal guardian.”

Steve turned back to Sam, squinting against the bright sunlight. “Has she contacted Annette about all that’s happened, yet?”

Sam shook his head. “Didn’t say. I’ll ask.” He went back to typing, ignoring the droplets of water that spattered his back as Justin slapped his hand against the water of the pool, almost falling in.

They walked around a bit more before eventually finding a McDonald’s for a late lunch. Steve ended up signing close to a hundred autographs, though he refused any pictures. Sam was a little more enthusiastic, happily signing whatever was handed to him and taking as many pictures as asked. It was a rather crowded McDonald’s, especially at that time of day, and it was a good twenty minutes after having ordered that their number was finally called.

The kids cheered when they finally sat down to eat, having been whining and crying at how hungry they were for the majority of the time they had been standing and waiting. Steve rushed everyone in eating so they could get out of there as fast as possible, unabashedly scowling at the cameras pointed their way as they walked out. People could learn to mind their own damn business.

Sam carried Cynthia on his hip while Steve gave Charlie a piggy back ride, and they wandered around some of the shops a while before Sam received another text.

“Says they’re looking at being discharged within the next thirty minutes. We should start making our way over there.”

It was a long walk back to the car, with lots of grumbling from the kids about being tired and wanting to sleep. It _was_ around the time of day Cynthia and the twins would be taking a nap, so Steve wasn’t all that surprised. Plus, after the wild morning they had all had, even he and Sam would be happy to lay down for a nap.

By the time they got back to the hospital, she was already waiting for them outside, Lydia with a bright green cast and sitting in a collapsible wheelchair. She smiled at them as they pulled up, and Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized they finally had someone who knew what they were doing once again.

“Hey, guys! How’s it going?” she asked, walking around to put Lydia in the car seat before folding the wheelchair and depositing it in the car’s tiny trunk.

“Oh. It’s been…great,” Sam said in a monotone. She gave a tight smile, apparently deciding that she _didn’t_ want to know.

“Glad to hear it. Lydia, you want to tell them how you’re feeling?”

“Better. They gave me _three_ lollipops!” she exclaimed, to cries of “I want one!” and “no fair!” from the siblings. She shot them a sharp look and they all quieted down.

She turned back to the front as she got buckled, smiling at Steve as he was turned in his seat to look back at them. “Alright. You ready to go home? Actually, I think we need to stop at the store first. We’re out of kid food back at their house, and I think we could maybe pick up some I-C-E C-R-E-A-M to have after this long day, if you’d agree.”

Sam snorted. “Man, I don’t wanna go shopping, but if we’re gonna get _that_ , then I guess it’ll be worth it.” He sped out onto the main road and didn’t slow down until they had reached the nearest grocery store, still in the middle of D.C.

They all piled out, Lydia happy to be pushed around by her and the other children all complaining of being tired or wanting a ride on the wheelchair.

“It’s not a toy, Justin. Here, you’re getting kind of big for it, but I guess you can sit on my shoulders this once,” Steve conceded, picking him up and setting him across his broad shoulders easily. He heaved a heavy sigh as Cynthia demanded to be picked up too, looking at Sam to get the girl but finding that Charlie was already riding on Sam’s back. Steve crouched down carefully with Justin on his shoulders and picked Cynthia up, heading through the crowded parking lot and wanting to punch something as he saw more phones and cameras make an appearance.

It was all worth it, though, when she turned around from where she was leading their unique little straggle and smiled warmly at him holding Cynthia and carrying Justin. He almost walked into the automatic doors as he grinned back.

He had to crouch-walk through the door with Justin on his shoulders, setting Cynthia in the child-seat of one of the carts inside the store and following her lead. Lydia was clearly feeling better as the girl directed where to go and where to stop, pleased with the attention they were getting from the other store-goers with their strange ensemble of superheroes, children, and a random possible love interest.

Steve grimaced as he imagined her coming across all the articles that would be on the internet in the next few hours, speculating whether she was dating _him_ or _Sam_ , if they were caught in a “love triangle”, if the kids were hers, if one of them was the father, etc., etc., etc..

Well, _he_ wouldn’t mind the speculation that they were dating; that’s kind of what Steve wanted himself.

He stopped abruptly at the thought, Sam running into him from behind.

“Dude, you good?” Sam asked, moving around him and following after her. Sam glanced back at Steve curiously, walking sideways to check that his friend was okay.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just had a bit of a realization,” Steve answered truthfully.

“Huh. Care to share?” Sam slowed his pace so that he and Steve were walking side by side, moseying along slow and steady as she marched on ahead with Lydia and examined the different types of pasta for spaghetti that night.

Steve considered. He really didn’t mind talking with Sam about it, but with the kids right there…that was a bit of a different story. But the three they had with them were mostly distracted by all the people looking at them and taking pictures of _Captain America_ (!) and _The Falcon_ (!) with _kids_ (!), so Steve took a chance that they weren’t listening and spilled.

“Well, I think that…I want to date,” he finished in a rush. He pushed the cart steadily in front of him, ducking his head as a flash went off somewhere to their right. Sam looked momentarily in the direction of the flash before focusing back on Steve.

“Hey, that’s great! Is it…?” He trailed off, nodding ahead towards the end of the isle where she was laughing with Lydia over something.

Steve didn’t try to hide his blush. He knew there was no point in it. “Yeah.”

Sam was looking at him like he was trying to hold back a smile, but eventually he allowed that big grin to break forth, coaxing a smaller, shyer one out of Steve as well. “Dude, _yes_ ,” he nodded eagerly, bumping his elbow into Steve repeatedly as the kids waved to the various people and cameras around them. “That’s great. Got a plan on how to ask her out?”

Steve’s smile faltered. “Er, no, not yet. Any ideas?” His steps hesitated as she looked back at them, smiling as she called out something about “is ‘ _meander’_ your two’s fastest speed?”

Sam readjusted his grip on Charlie’s legs as they picked up the pace to get to her. “Hm, I’ll be thinking on it.”

“Thinking on what?” she asked curiously, comparing prices between two boxes that looked exactly the same to Steve. She tossed one in the cart and started for the next isle.

“Nothing, just work stuff,” Sam lied easily, and she readily accepted his answer, already considering marinara options.

After a few more minutes of wandering up and down the aisles Cynthia began to get grumpy, still sticky and a little damp from the various liquids she had had spilled on her that day. When she tried grabbing a box of cookies from the shelf and opening it before they had paid, Steve had to start playing patty cake with her to distract her. It worked only very briefly before they were all distracted as Charlie accidentally started to strangle Sam in his attempt to slide off his back. Justin was wiggling on Steve’s shoulders, apparently hit with the sudden need for a bathroom.

They were passing by the candy isle when Charlie finally made his way back to the ground, taking off at full speed to find lollipops since Lydia had gotten some but he hadn’t. Justin practically leapt from Steve’s shoulders and sprinted for the bathroom. Cynthia began crying as Steve got distracted from their game by Justin’s acrobatics (last time one of the kids had jumped like that they had _ended up in the hospital_ ) and she and Lydia were nowhere to be seen.

Sam took off after Charlie, and Steve pushed Cynthia and the cart rapidly in the direction of the bathrooms, dodging various people who were laughing at him and filming their group’s antics. He came to a halt outside the bathrooms, taking Cynthia and leaving the cart and going into the men’s room after Justin.

“Justin?” he called into the (thankfully) mostly empty bathroom.

“‘M GOIN’ POTTY,” the kid yelled from one of the stalls, and Steve sagged against the wall in relief. Cynthia was still crying, and Steve lifted her up to smell her diaper in case that was the problem. Making a face, he pulled down the baby changing station on the wall and got to work, grabbing the spare pull-up he had stuffed in his back pocket in the car.

It was messy work, Cynthia screaming his ears off in the echoing tile bathroom and pounding at his hands with her little fists. She was still unhappy once she had been changed, though, having to be put back in her still slightly wet clothes and tired from the long day, obviously in severe need for a nap.

Steve sympathized with that need acutely.

Justin came out of the bathroom just as Steve was finishing up with Cynthia, playing with the button on the hand dryer as he waited for Steve to wash his hands.

They walked back out and Steve was grateful to find the shopping cart was still there. He gently set Cynthia down in it, making Justin walk because “you’re old enough not to be carried, kid.”

They found Sam pulling Charlie off of the top shelf in a random isle, the kid apparently having made a lap around the store and deciding that he wanted to go on a little rock climbing adventure. Sam looked a few seconds away from collapsing, clearly stressed by all the happenings of the day and ready for them to be done.

He looked tiredly at Steve as he held a screaming Charlie to his chest as the child tried to get away, obviously not pleased with having been caught. “Do you know where—”

“ _There_ you guys are! We’ve been searching the entire store for you.” She came strolling up easy as could be, pushing a smiling Lydia in front of her who had multiple tubs of ice cream piled in her lap. She transferred them to Steve’s cart, adding a few more things as they began walking the aisles again.

“Hm. You guys want Juicy-Juice or Fruit Punch?” she asked.

“Juicy-Juice!” called Lydia and Justin.

“Fruit Punch!” answered Charlie.

“Juicy Punch!” Cynthia chimed in.

She laughed, bopping the little girl’s nose and making her giggle. “Juicy Punch it is, then.” She grabbed one bottle of each of the options and set them in the cart.

The kids had calmed down in her presence and were well-behaved again as they made their way through the rest of the store and the check-out line. Steve was finally in a good enough mood by the end of the shopping trip because of her presence and clear handle on things that he was able to pose for some group photos with a bunch of people and sign a couple dozen autographs. Sam joined in too, leaving all four kids in her more-than adept care for just a little while longer.

Naturally, Sam and Steve were asked questions about who were the kids, who was she, and were they in a three-way relationship?

“What’s a ‘three-way’?” Charlie asked innocently, trotting over to the center of the action, curious.

Steve covered the boy’s ears. “No, we are not,” he answered abruptly, glaring at the person who had asked the question. “And we’re babysitting for some friends. Please, no more questions. Especially inappropriate ones.” He ushered Charlie back over to where she stood with the rest of the children and the cart, letting Sam grab Charlie’s and Justin’s hands as they walked into the parking lot, Steve pushing Cynthia in the cart and Lydia being pushed in the wheel chair.

They loaded everyone and everything into the car, cramming the wheel chair into the trunk and barely getting it to close.

“Jeez, they couldn’t give you a smaller car?” Sam asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“I’m lucky to have gotten something with enough seats for all of us considering I _didn’t_ _know I’d be babysitting_.” She gave Sam a light smack in the ear. “I’m not about to start complaining about the size.”

The drive back was considerably better than the drive _in_ to D.C. Traffic was still pretty bad but this time the kids were better, each of them eventually dropping off into sleep with the smooth motions of the car after their exhausting day.

Sam pulled up to the house and parked, sighing for a minute as all was quiet. Steve opened the door and practically fell on the pavement again, his legs were so cramped.

He eventually tugged open the door, carrying Cynthia in in her entire car seat and leaving her in the living room where she continued to sleep. The others were waking up as he came back out, and she was carrying Lydia inside to where she had set up the wheelchair, so as not to have to carry both the girl _and_ the chair up the front steps at the same time.

Justin and Charlie stumbled out of the car, trekking in with big yawns and headed straight to their rooms to change out of their Sunny-D soaked shirts. Lydia was tucked in bed, already tuckered out after the hectic day and lack of a nap. Cynthia was still sleeping in the living room in her car seat, and Steve distantly remembered that she had needed a bath this morning. Well, she would definitely need one _now_ , after all that had gone on.

The three adults convened in the kitchen, sitting slumped in their chairs and staring mutely off into various distances. Sam finally spoke up.

“So how’d Annette react to the news about Lydia?” he asked her.

She shook her head as she came back to real life from wherever she had been. Probably a warm, cozy bed or a nice relaxing bath. Either of those options sounded incredibly appealing to Steve right then.

“Oh, right. She was worried, naturally, but not out-of-her-wits so, thank goodness. She asked if I thought they needed to come home, and I said I’d ask Lydia what she thought, and Lydia said that they were all having more fun without Mommy and Daddy there, and Annette overheard this and started laughing and said to call if we really needed them or something else happened, but it sounded like things were alright with Lydia so they would stay for their planned time and be back in the afternoon tomorrow.” She smiled wearily as Sam and Steve groaned in unison. “Don’t worry, guys. Less than twenty hours to go.”

“I don’t think twenty hours has looked so long in my entire life, though,” Sam griped, falling dramatically across the table. “I vote we take after the kids and have nap time. Nap time sound alright to you? Cool? Cool. I call the couch.” He heaved himself out of his chair and out of the kitchen, falling face first onto the couch with his feet hanging over the edge.

She shook her head. “Typical he would go for the closest sleeping option and leave us to fend for ourselves.”

“Wanna take the bed upstairs? I can sleep on the floor in the living room. ‘S no big deal.”

She smiled gently at his offer. “Nah, we can share the bed. It’s big enough for both of us.” She stood casually and stretched, beckoning him with a wave to follow her out the kitchen.

They passed Sam on the couch, who was already unconscious. Cynthia was still snoozing soundly in her car seat right next to the couch. The twins were both asleep in their room when she and Steve poked their heads in, Charlie cuddled up in Lydia’s bed for once to comfort his sister in her exhausted and immobile state. Justin was also sound asleep in his room, dirty clothes scattered across the floor and arm hanging from the side of the bed.

Steve followed her into the master bedroom. She looked down at her juice and crumb covered shirt, shrugging and pulling it over her head without second thought. Her pants, which were not as dirty but definitely not comfortable for sleeping in, came off next, and Steve was too tired to realize he was staring until she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“C’mon, Steve. We’re both adults here. Tired, messy adults in need of a shower and a nap. So let’s nap.” She crawled onto the bed and threw back the covers, taking the far side pressed against the wall and patting the space next to her. Steve was reminded of the day before, when they had been watching the movie and he had made the same motion to her as she had come back from the bathroom to see them all asleep on or around the couch.

He smiled, pulling off his dirty shirt and shucking his jeans as well. He was left in just his boxers, climbing in beside her and leaving plenty of space in the middle between them.

She turned to him, blushing slightly but smiling at him nonetheless. She opened her mouth to say something but ended up closing it, shuffling closer across the bed so their knees and feet were touching.

Steve boldly reached out an arm and pulled her to him by the waist, smiling into her hair when she hummed against his chest and snuggled closer. They remained loosely wrapped together as they fell asleep, happy and content.

%%%

Steve didn’t know what time it was when he woke. He just knew that a warm, mostly naked body was pressed tightly between his and the wall. And that that warm, mostly naked body belonged to the woman he had a huge crush on and was trying to work out a way to ask on a date.

So naturally, his dick decided that was the _perfect_ moment to stiffen up, growing steadily firmer until it was pressed right against her thigh as she slept soundly against his chest. He tried backing away slow enough not to wake her, letting out a minute whimper at the loss of contact his cock suddenly had with her body.

Her eyelids opened as Steve tried to retreat, pinning him with sleep-hooded eyes that only made Steve more aware of his predicament.

“Mmm, Steve?” she murmured softly against her pillow, gaze following his gradual path towards the edge of the bed.

“Sorry, gotta go to the bathroom. Go back to sleep.” He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, bolting for the bathroom door and splashing his face with cool water from the sink.

He looked down at the large tent in his boxers. Damn. He didn’t have the time to just wait it out. And he didn’t just want to jerk it when she was _right there_. He could take a cold shower—taking another shower after being so messy would hardly be considered suspicious. But he had told her he just needed to use the bathroom. Plus, most of his clothes were out in the bedroom, and he didn’t want to go waltzing around in a towel while she was asleep in the bed. Sure, he had his boxers with him now, but that was hardly any better.

He muffled a groan of frustration in his elbow, deciding to just go for it. So what if she heard? It was that or go back out there with a hard-on still in his pants. He was pretty sure just getting off would be less awkward and potentially offensive than if he slid back under the covers and cuddled right back up to her, pressing his dick to the crack of her ass through her underwear, maybe leaning over her to—

He stopped his thoughts right there, cutting off that idea and instead focusing on the feel of his hand around his big dick. The skin was strangely velvet-like, soft and rough at the same time. He squeezed hard, his other hand travelling down to his balls and brushing against them almost teasingly. He thumbed the head of his cock, skin all over his body going hot with his arousal as his thumb collected the beads of pre-come leaking forth from the slit. The glistening liquid helped make the pass of his hand easier as he muffled his whines in his hand, working his fingers quickly over his member in the hopes of coming soon.

He dropped his hand from his mouth to his nipples, plucking at them harshly and twisting them in earnest. It was a sharp sensation, more pain than pleasure, but it was drawing him closer to the edge so he kept at it. His mind wandered to how she would react if she knew what he was doing right now, less than fifteen feet away from where she lay so unsuspectingly and alluringly on the large bed, her curves hidden beneath the sheet as it clung to her skin. He tried to remember the color of her bra and underwear, picturing what she would look like as she slid out of bed and walked softly to the bathroom, tapping on the door and asking if he was okay. Steve imagined yanking open the door for her to see him standing there, hard cock in hand, tip angry red and needy for some extra help. He thought of the way her eyes would darken and her mouth might drop the smallest amount, tongue running over her bottom lip as she took in his almost-naked form with wanting eyes.

He pictured her kneeling before him, reaching her hand behind her back to undo her bra and letting it fall to the floor across his feet. The way her gaze would travel from his thighs to his dick, up his sculpted abs to his chest and flushed nipples, finally to his face as she thrust out her chest for him to fuck.

Steve was coming before he even got to finish his fantasy, so he quickly changed it. He pictured how she would look as he aimed his thick cock at her tits and came all over them, come sliding down her breasts and over her nipples as they poked out of the thick liquid, tongue sticking out in the hopes of catching some in her mouth. As he came down from his high he thought of licking her clean, his own tongue flat against her supple flesh and moving to collect every last drop of his own release. He thought of her moans as he would twirl his tongue over the pert buds of her nipples, licking up his come from them and teasing them with his teeth as he gently bit and nipped, sucking and swirling his mouth around them until she was gasping, _begging_ —

 _Nope_. Best to stop now while he was soft. If his mind followed that path any longer, his supersoldier serum would take over and just get him hard all over again. And right now, he just wanted a few more hours’ sleep.

Arousal taken care of, he quickly cleaned himself off with the towel he had used this morning, throwing it in the corner before checking his reflection in the mirror and splashing more cold water on his face.

He hoped she had fallen asleep again as he made his way back into the bed, but as he lifted the covers and slid in she scooted back against him, pulling his arm over her waist so that he was spooning her.

“Is this okay?” she asked, yawning. “You’re warm.”

Steve wasn’t sure if that was supposed to act as an explanation or simply a statement, so he only grunted softly and pressed a compulsive kiss to the top of her head, just like he had done the night before after the movie.

She hummed as she drifted off to sleep again, contented sigh falling from her lips before she was fully out.

%%%

The next time Steve woke, it was to a body crawling over his.

“Oh. Hi. Sorry,” she apologized, sliding over his prone form and off the bed. His eyes followed her as she dressed, and they both blushed when she glanced back and caught him watching. Well, it wasn’t like she had been _naked_ , right? And he had seen most of it the day before during swimming, anyways.

“Pretty sure Sam’s up, and at least a few of the kids. ‘M gonna check to see if Lydia needs more pain meds yet, and then I’ll start supper. If you fall back asleep, do you want me to wake you when it’s time to eat, or would you like to just keep sleeping?”

Steve blinked as his foggy brain tried to process between the options. “Mm, wake me if you would, please. You sure you don’t need help making anything?” Even though his offer was genuine, he sincerely hoped she’d say no so that he could get a few more minutes’ extra sleep.

“Nah, ‘s just spaghetti. No biggie. Catch ya later.” And with that she walked out, shutting the door gently behind her.

Steve drifted in and out of states of semi-consciousness, never fully falling back asleep. Still, he was caught off guard when Charlie and Justin jumped on the bed to wake him, laughing and giggling and attempting flips on the bed as they yelled for him to get up and come downstairs so they could eat.

Steve trudged his way down the steps after them to find everyone already in the kitchen. Cynthia was in her high chair, Lydia had been helped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, Justin and Charlie were chasing each other around the room, and Sam was talking with Lydia and telling her something to make her smile and keep her mind off her broken bone.

“Boys, sit down please,” she said calmly from the stove, stirring a pot of noodles with one hand and a pot of pasta sauce with the other. Steve figured he was probably included in “boys” and so took a seat, much more calmly than Justin and Charlie, though, who continued to make fighting noises and squirm around as they poured themselves drinks of Fruit Punch and Juicy-Juice.

Steve opted to try this “Juicy-Juice”, pouring a tall glass for himself and a second one for her. She smiled at him as she placed heat pads on the table and set the pots down on top of them, taking a seat next to Cynthia to help the little girl with her food.

It was a messy affair, everyone ending up with some spaghetti sauce _somewhere_ and the floor taking a beating of sauce and noodles alike. By the time the meal was finished, Charlie was covered in the red goo and had a big juice stain down his front, and Cynthia was a true mess. Sam, unfortunately, had been sitting opposite Cynthia at the table, and had been on the receiving end of multiple spoonfuls of marinara sauce across his neck and shirt and looked like he had just escaped some epic battle.

“Alright, I’m going home to get a shower and get changed. I’ll be back in, like, thirty minutes. Maybe an hour.” Sam grimaced at the thought of coming back, clearly ready to give up babysitting for the rest of his life. Steve rolled his eyes. Had Sam forgotten who had gotten them into all of this in the first place?

“Justin, Charlie, how about you go head up to your mom and dad’s bathroom and take a shower together. That way we can maybe save a bit of water and time. Don’t forget to get clean clothes from your room, first!” she called after them as they raced each other up the stairs.

She sighed, turning to Steve. “Would you mind sitting on the bed or something and making sure they don’t kill each other in the shower? Try to limit it to less than ten minutes, if you can.” Steve nodded, leaving his plate on the table like Sam and the boys had done. They could take care of it later.

He trudged back upstairs to the master bathroom, peeling off his stained shirt so as to prevent it from transferring to the sheets. He lay back on the bed, letting the sounds of running water in the bathroom and the boy’s laughter as they talked and made bubbles lull him into a light sleep…

Steve shot upright in bed some short time later, just catching a glimpse of a naked Charlie dashing from the bathroom and out the door of the master bedroom. Steve walked wearily after him, shutting his wide-open bedroom door as the boy searched for clothes in his dresser. So much for remembering them beforehand.

He was relieved to see Justin walking out of the bathroom dressed in his pajamas as Steve walked into the bedroom, and let the boy pass with a nod of approval. He searched for the girls, not finding them in the kitchen, living room, or any of the bedrooms.

He knocked on the cracked upstairs bathroom door that led off of the hallway and that the kids used. He heard giggles and laughter, pushing the door slowly open as he called, “Hello?”

There was a high-pitched squeal that he recognized as coming from Lydia, and someone slammed the door in his face.

“Sorry, Steve!” she apologized through the wood. “I hope I didn’t hurt you! I’m helping Lydia shower right now, trying not to get her cast wet. She didn’t want you walking in and seeing her.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Lyddie! Is Cynthia with you?”

There was a burst of happy giggles and cries of “Stevie!” from in the bathroom, and he heard Cynthia jumping up and down just inside the door.

“Stevie! Steve! Stevie!”

He heard her chuckling. “Yes, she’s with me. I’ll be done helping Lydia in a moment. Need anything?”

“Nope, just checking in. I’ll be downstairs,” he called behind him.

It was pretty late again that they all were up, what with the late nap the kids had taken and everything. He watched part of “The Lego Movie” with the boys before she brought Lydia down to join them on the couch, propping her cast up on a stack of pillows. Cynthia, who had come down with them, was running around like a little wild child, and Steve scooped her up with a bear growl and tossed her in the air, remembering at the last minute that they were inside and making sure she didn’t hit the ceiling. They had had enough injuries for one day.

She laughed loudly, screeching with every throw upwards. “You ready for yer bath, silly child?” Steve asked her in part growl. “Big monsters like me eat messy little girls like you. You’re looking rather tasty with all that spaghetti on you!”

She wriggled in his arms to get away, Steve holding her tightly as he walked up the stairs. He looked behind to see her following, beaming up as she watched him interact with Cynthia.

He set the girl down in the bathroom, standing outside the door as she jumped around, acting like a bear. “Steve! Watch me when I swim! I can swim like a froggy in the tubby!”

Steve wandered into the bathroom after her and Cynthia, putting the plug in and turning the water on. He turned his back to search for bubbles under the sink while she helped Cynthia undress, getting her in the water and making it nice and foamy before Steve knelt next to her on the mat as Cynthia played with the bubbles.

They heard the kids laughing at the movie downstairs through the open bathroom door, the two of them smiling at each other around the bubbles now floating through the air.

“You’re really good with kids, Steve,” she said to him quietly as she took a cloth and began rubbing Cynthia’s arms. Steve grabbed some child-friendly shampoo, tilting the girl’s head back in the water to get it fully wet before massaging the product into her curls.

“Yeah? Well, so’re you. You’re amazing with kids.” She let out an amused huff, shaking her head slightly and avoiding his eyes at the compliment. “No, really! At the store today, after everyone started going wild and things went haywire—they only settled down again after _you_ ’d found us again. Sam and I, we can pass for ‘ _adults’_. But we’re really no good at ‘ _responsible’_. You, on the other hand, would make an excellent mom.”

“Hmm,” she hummed noncommittally. “You ever think about having kids? Becoming a dad?”

Steve paused in his washing of Cynthia’s hair as he thought.

“I used to,” he admitted quietly. “But so many things have changed. A family, stability…guy who wanted all that went down in the ice seventy years ago. I think somebody different came out.”

She looked at him serenely, but Steve could tell she was somewhat analyzing him. He kept his eyes on Cynthia’s happy face as he waited for her to say something.

“Thank you for sharing that,” she said at last, moving onto Cynthia’s legs and tickling the child’s feet. The girl giggled, splashing up water and making both adults duck away from it.

They were facing each other, smiling with a newfound understanding of one another and a deeper connection that Steve hadn’t felt with any woman since…well, probably since Peggy.

They finished washing Cynthia together, working side by side and chatting softly through most of it, the rare silences feeling neither awkward nor strained.

When they had Cynthia dried and dressed in her pajamas the little girl yawned, clearly ready for bed even if she had just woken from a nap less than two hours before.

“Okay, little one. Steve and I will tuck you in,” she responded to the small girl’s pleas for a bed time story and kisses goodnight.

Steve followed her to the master bedroom, plugging in the nightlight and turning off the main lights as she laid Cynthia in her crib. Steve sang softly to her in Gaelic, songs that his mother had sung to him long ago through long winter nights as he shivered with sickness, unsure if he would make it ‘till morning light.

They both pressed soft kisses to her forehead, Steve staring adoringly down at the child for a little while longer as he contemplated what he wanted in life.

Did he want kids? Maybe. First, he’d have to find the right partner.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to look at her.

She was looking at him with a tiny smile on her lips, part mischievous, part shy, and maybe even part adoring, just as he had been looking at Cynthia. Steve saw her leaning forward and naturally responded, meeting her halfway in a kiss that was soft and full of appreciation and understanding. It was short, yet so full of _meaning_ , and it took Steve a moment to remember to breathe.

She pulled away gently, keeping the kiss fairly short though it remained unhurried. She smiled warmly at him once more before walking past him without a word, trailing her hand over his back as she exited the room and made her way back down to the rest of the kids.

Steve smiled after her, a soft smile that matched his insides and the tone of the kiss.

Today had been a pretty good day after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, didn't get as much posted this weekend as i had hoped :(
> 
> I've received so much love from you all and it has mean SO. MUCH. and made writing so much easier and better Thank you. <3
> 
> Prepare for some more Natasha awesomeness in the next chapter, and yes, I will be making Sam/Nat a part of this fic. I will always choose that pairing over Nat/Bruce. Or the unrelated Steve/Sharon Seriously. WHY???
> 
> Anywho, thank you all again tons and tons, you make this so much fun to write. Much love to all!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late updates, especially when i had said i was going to post a lot over the weekend. Something came up, and now im out of state without wifi on my computer, so im having to update via mobile which, lemme tell ya, is testing my patience. Im not good at texting
> 
> Likely going to be quite a few errors that i miss until i can replace this with the doc on my laptop, so feel free to point them out and i'll try to get to them asap
> 
> Thank you to everybody still stickin with me. You guys are wonderful

"Alright, who wants ice cream for breakfast?"

" _Yeah_!"

You grinned as all the kids cheered, laughing when Sam and Steve joined in just as enthusiastically. 

"Nice. Don't tell your parents I let you do this, though. I still want them to think I'm responsible and all that."

The kids giggled, running to the kitchen to get to the freezer. Steve carried Lydia in his big arms, the small girl giggling happily as she was swung gently back and forth as he walked. She had woke up crying today in severe pain from her broken ankle, but after the pain meds and some morning cartoons she was obviously feeling better.

You pulled out your phone as Sam scooped various flavors of ice cream for the kids. You left it on the counter, playing Disney music into the kitchen and lightening the mood of everyone even further. Steve set Lydia down on one of the chairs before coming over to stand by you, wrapping a casual arm around your waist so that you were leaning lightly into him.

Sam cast you both a knowing glance and you blushed, looking to Steve to see his cheeks also lightly coloring. He smiled when he caught you looking, and you couldn't help but let out a small giggle and smile back.

Wow. A giggle. You really  _did_ like him.

Sam handed you a bowl of mint chocolate chop and you dug in happily, leaning against the counter and a little further into Steve as he grabbed an extra spoon and took a scoop from your bowl.

Sam sat down at the table next to Cynthia, stopping the little girl from eating her ice cream all in a rush and getting brain freeze. Justin, Lydia, and Charlie were playing table hockey with a Gatorade bottle cap, flicking it back and forth to each other around the obstacles of bowls, ice cream tubs, and random piles of crayons. All in all, it was a pretty nice start to the day.

The chimes of the doorbell echoed down the hallway and you set your bowl down with a frown. You didn't _think_ you had been expecting any visitors today. Steve immediately picked up your bowl with a triumphant sound, smiling at you around a big mouthful of ice cream as you stuck your tongue out at him and went to open the door.

"Hi. Mind if I join you guys today?"

"Natasha! Hey, come on in. Want some breakfast? We're having ice cream right now, if you'd like any," you smiled at the woman, gesturing towards the kitchen and closing the door behind her.

"Natasha! What're you doing here?" Sam asked, part excited and part confused. The kids all let out cries of "Natasha, Natasha!" smiling and waving at the redheaded woman with joyful glee.

She helped herself to a bowl of Rocky Road and Cookie Dough ice cream, sprawling in one of the empty chairs and setting her feet proprietarily on Sam's lap. He patted them fondly, going back to his own ice cream and helping Cynthia with hers.

"Just wanted to see what you guys were up to today, and say hi to my favorite redheads on the planet." The kids giggled and chatted loudly over one another, vying for her attention. You walked back over to where Steve was finishing off the ladt of his ice cream, stopping his hand halfway to his mouth as it held the last spoonful and guiding it to your lips instead. He frowned poutily at you for a second before his eyes widened as he watched enraptured as your cheeks hollowed out and you sucked the treat from the spoon, tongue swirling aroind the bowl of it a few times before you finally released his hand. You were reminded a moment of the Dippin' Dots at the baseball game the other day and the way Steve had savored every tiny dot from the spoon, teasing you with the way his pink tongue had moved over the plastic utensil and making you think dirty things. Well, this was payback.

Steve was looking at you closely, eyes wide and growing slightly darker as his beautiful face held an intensity you hadn't seen on it before. You winked at him over your shoulder as you moved away to scoop more frozen delight into your bowl, letting your hips sway back and forth more than usual and feeling his gaze raking over your pajama-clad form.

You smirked as you came back to stand next to him, holding the bowl between you do you both could eat from it. Lydia was telling Natasha the story about how she had broken her ankle and they had all gone to the hospital the day before, and Cynthia had at some point migrated from her high chair and ended up in Natasha's lap. The woman was happily helping her eat her ice cream, not seeming to mind that most of it ended up on Cynthia or herself instead of in Cynthia's mouth.

Sam and the boys were doing a dare to see who could eat the most ice cream the fastes before succumbing to brain freeze. You shook your head in exasperation as all three simultaneously ended up moaning and laying their faces against the table as the cold hit all at once. It was a good thing that Sam wasn't babysitting them all by himself, or you were pretty sure every one of them would have ended up in the hospital by now, including Sam.

You and Steve were able to just stand off to the side and watch, enjoying your ice cream and each other's body heat pressed against your side. His arm slipped around your shoulders with a small squeeze, and you hid your smile around the spoon of your ice cream. This was looking to be a _really_ good day.

%%%

Most of the rest of the day was spent playing games. Because of Lydia's injury, hide and seek was out, as was doing much more outside than going for a walk. There were endless games of Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders. Lydia was okay acting as the spinner for Twister, giggling as she watched her siblings and the adults try to stretch and bend and not fall over. Whenever one of you _did_ fall, it was with the goal to take out as many other players as possible, frequently resulting in the game ending with everyone on the floor in a giant pile of limbs and laughter.

 With less than two hours before Annette and Michael were expected to return, you decided that maybe it was time for clean up. Both parents would appreciate coming home to a tidy house, and it was a good way to distract the kids until they got back.

You delegated the chores. "Alright. Justin and Sam, you clean the bathrooms. Steve and Cynthia, you put away the toys and then vacuum each room. Lydia, you help me do the dishes, and Natasha, you and Charlie collect all the bedsheets and towels to do laundry. Whenever you finish, the hardwood needs to be swept, and the kids' clothes could also be done. Meet back in the kitchen for lunch in an hour and a half. Break."

You all scatterd in different directions, with you pulling a barstool up to the sink for Lydia to sit on.

"How 'bout I wash, and you rinse. Sound good?"

"Yep."

The two of you sang along to the music still playing from your phone as you worked. You could hear random thumps from around the house as everyone else completed their chores, a yelp echoing down the stairs as Justin apparently turned on the shower while Sam cleaned the tub. There was a loud cackle from Justin followed by the sound of running feet. Justin came racing into the kitchen followed by a laughing and dripping-wet Sam. Justin looped around the table then back up the stairs, Sam still chasing delicately after as he tried not to slip with his wet feet.

A few moments later and Cynthia was trotting around with a white pillow case over her body, pretending to be a ghost. Steve came striding in after her as she repeatedly bumped into your legs, only bouncing off a step or two before knocking into you again like some toy robot stuck in a corner.

Steve whipped the pillow case from her head and threw it over his shoulder. "C'mon, silly goose. You're s'posed to be helping _me_ , not Natasha," he teased the laughing toddler.

He picked her up so that she was hanging upside down and squealing with laughter, dropping a quick kiss to your cheek before striding back out.

You blushed red, surprised by his casual display of affection, especially with both the girls right there. He was acting like you two were dating already, when all you had done so far was exchange a kiss that either of you had yet to bring up.

 _Well_. A kiss _and_ some rather flirty texts.

Lydia let out an excited "ooooh" from beside of you. You pretended to ignore her. It was easy, at first. Until she started singing.

" _You an' Stebie, sittin' in a tree_ ," she chanted.

"Don't," you teasingly warned, flicking a few soapy drops of water her way. She kept going.

" _K-I-S-S_...I-S-S...I..." she trailed off, looking at you for help with the spelling.

You threw your head back and laughed. "Oh, no. No no no. I am not about to help you finish that, dear little one." You shook your head as you scrubbed dried-on pasta stains from a pot, accidentally sloshing water over the sink edge and onto the floor.

The two of you had almost finished with the dishes when Natasha and Charlie came down from upstairs with armfuls of sheets, pillowcases, and towels. They walked through the kitchen on their way to the basement, Charlie trailing multiple items behind him on his way down the steps. You heard Natasha start the washing machine as Charlie retraced his steps to gather all the fallen towels and pillow cases.

His eyes lit up when he recognized the song playing from your phone, something from "Aladdin". He sprung fully into the kitchen, spreading his arms as he "flew" across the floor.

" _I can show you the world, shining, shimmering, splendid_ ," he sang loudly as you laughed and Lydia clapped her hands. He circled around the table, gaining speed as he went.

"Be careful, Charlie. The floor is wet in some places," you warned, not wanting to stop his fun but also not wanting him to slip and fall.

He sang louder over your voice, ignoring you and running faster and taking turns sharper.

"Charlie."

" _No one to tell us no, or where to go, or say we're only dreaming_ ," he sang extra loudly, as if to say to you "you can't stop me".

You frowned, hands still working distractedly under the hot water at some baked-on macaroni as your eyes followed his leaping path around the room. "Charlie. Slow down please."

He sang even louder. " _Unbelievable sights, indescribable feelings. Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling_ —"

Charlie had added jumps and twirls at the part of soaring and tumbling, landing on a wet spot after a great big bound, arms flailing around him as his foot slipped on the wet tile. He slid straight into Lydia's barstool, his weight pushing his sister off as he landed on his rear with a thud and yelp of unhappy pain. Lydia tumbled towards the floor with her bad side facing the tile, broken ankle in the unfortunate position of first impact.

You lunged forward, wrapping an arm around her and holding her up. Your sudden movement upset your balamce, and just as you were righting her on her stool, the arm that was _for some reason_ still holding onto the dishes in the sink came out to your side to compensate.

The glass pan in your hand still had hot, soapy water on it and you let out a gasp as it slipped from your grip, the next events playing out in your head in less than an instant.

The water hit first, scalding you from upper thigh all the way to your foot, where the sole of your foot received extra pain as the sensitive skin was stuck on the floor supporting your weight amidst the hot water that was now spreading over the tile.

You heard the shatter of the glass on the floor behind you as you pivoted to pick Charlie up, setting him on the counter just as the hot water reached where be had been lying in pain on the floor.

You stepped back, trying to escape the advancing of the hot water over the tile only to place your foot directly in the pile of broken glass.

You cried out loudly in pain, hopping onto your other foot and immediately regretting it as you slipped and fell, exactly as Charlie had.

There was a scramble of noise as all the others rushed to the kitchen right as you landed on the floor and had the wind knocked out of you. Charlie was still crying, his big toe having possibly broken from where it had collided with Lydia's stool. Great. Now you might have to make  _another_ trip to thr hospital.

Steve was by your side in an instant, casting a worried look over the angry red and pink blotches of skin on your leg from where the hot water had hit. You saw Natasha helping the twins back to the kitchen table and checking Charlie's foot. Sam stood back, holding Cynthia in place as she tried to race over to get a better look.

"You need to get that leg under cool water," Steve told you seriously, but you were harldy listening, because 1) _Steve was scooping you up and carrying you bridal style up the stairs to the big shower in the master bathroom_ , and 2) _holy shit_ _you were in pain_ all of it hurt everything hurt god you couldn't catch your breath the wind was still knocked out of you and your poor foot hurt so fucking much and it was a good thing you had managed not to curse in front of the kids but _holy shit_ —

You focused back on real time as the nearly freezing water hit your skin, crying out again as it felt like pins were pelting into your burnt skin with elephant force.

You hissed through your teeth as Steve set you down on the floor of the shower, clothes soaked through as he knelt and put his hands at your waist.

"I need to remove your pants; its not good to have anything saturated with hot water still touching your skin."

You wanted to argue that they were shorts and were short enough to hardly have gotten any hot water on them, but what came out instead was, "Jeez, Rogers. You could at least ask me on a date first."

His hands froze where his thick finger were curled around the waistband of your shorts, your hips stuck in midair to help him take them off.

He looked at you with wide eyes as he slowly lowered your shorts, the realization of your words making him blush, but not enough to stop him from doing what he felt was necessary for your health. 

He tossed your sopping shorts in the corner of the shower and finally dropped his eyes back to your burnt leg. The majority of the outside of both your upper and lower leg had been hit, as well as all of your foot. He examined the cuts on the bottom of it, cold water tinged pink as it dripped from your heel and joined the flow of water towards the drain.

"Looks like we're going to need to remove quite a bit of glass from here," he said, thumb gently pulling at the edge of a cut to see if the glass was still embedded. "Probably best not to walk on it for a day after, even when the glass is gone and it's all bandaged up."

You winced and set your leg stiffly on the ground. "Does that mean you'll have to carry me around more?" You tried to come off flirty and teasing, but both of you heard the slight strain the pain left in your voice from...all of it.

Still, Steve looked at you from where he knelt by your ankle, soaking and dripping and water falling from his hair and rivults racing along his bulging biceps. His eyes were dark and his expression hungry as he looked at your clinging sleep shirt and near-transparent underwear. 

He walked forward on his hands, one supporting his weight on either side of your body. You didn't back down and lay back like he probabaly wanted you to, but you tilted your face up as he drew closer, eyes trained on his pink lips.

When his nose was an inch from yours, he stopped. You felt his warm breath drag against your face amidst the cold water.

"Maybe this is a little late since I've already taken your pants off..." you snorted and saw a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, "but is it alright if I ask you on that date now?"

Your eyes widened and your heart picked up. Your response was to grab the back of his head and kiss him, hard and desperate and nothing like the kiss from the night before. You nipped his bottom lip with a fire, body heating up surprisingly fast in the freezing shower. Things were going amazing, until...

"Ow, my leg. Steve, _my leg_."

He drew back with a startled noise, obviously too distracted to have remembered your injury. He looked down at it with alarm, hoping he hadn't made it worse.

You put a soothing hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, it's nothing you did. Just need to get that glass out, I think."

You noticed the sizable bulge in his pants then, realizing he must have a pretty impressive sex drive if he was able to get hard in freezing water.

His bashful nature was back as his mother-hen instincts overrode his arousal—though not so much as to lessen the tent over his crotch. He blushed as he turned off the water and handed you a towel, looking for all intents and purposes like he was back to shy, polite Steve as he kept his eyes locked firmly on your burn and nowhere else, trying to apologize for and cover his "inappropriately timed interest" in you (his words).

He was applying cool, soothing aloe vera to your leg, and if you hadn't been in pain it would've probably been rather sensual. Instead, it was sweet and relieving, and you let his calm voice relax you as he gently spread the substance over your calf. 

It took you a while to tune in on what he was actually saying, too caught up in the sensation of the placating aloe vera spreading over your irritated skin.

"...and I was thinking about taking you to see the cherry blossoms. When Sam and I took the kids the storm had blown most of them off and it was kind of grey out, but hopefully enough will regrow and the sun will be out when you and I go. There's this Thai place I've been meaning to try for some time now, and a nice little truffle shop right across the street that will be perfect for dessert. Lots of places we could go to actually do a bit more than just walk around, if you want. There's a bowling alley I know of that's pretty quiet, and I know it's more of a kids thing, but there's this Build-A-Bear..."

He was describing what the two of you might like to do on your date. He was precious; he really was. You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror and almost laughed at your own goofy smile as you listened to him go on about all his date ideas. Whatever it was that you two ended up doing, you knew that it would be one of the best dates of your life.

%%%

"First degree burns take three to six days to heal, according to this website. You should be okay to walk a little on it, but maybe stay off it as much as you can until next week," Sam was looking at his phone, tapping the screen as you sat on the couch in dry clothes with your leg delicately perched so as not to get any aloe vera on the (disgusting and already stained) upholstery. 

Natasha and Sam had made lunch while Steve had carefully removed the glass from your foot and then lightly bandaged it, choosing to use a wrap around bandage rather than any adhesive that would further irritate your burned skin. They had prepared tacos and quesadillias, and both you and Steve had ravenously dug into the meal in the final twenty or less minutes before Annette and Michael came back.

Sam headed back in the kitchen when he heard Cynthia beginning to whine. Natasha had had to leave early again ("It's classified") and so it was now four on three once again when it came to kid:adult ratio. Steve smiled warmly at you, opening his mouth to say something when there was a soft call of your name.

You both turned to see Charlie standing off to the side, looking down at the floor while he shuffled his feet. Sam had apparently put him in time-out while Steve had been helping you, showing little sympathy to the boy's pain (Natasha had said his toe was simply sprained, not broken) and making him march up the stairs and face the corner in Cynthia's actual room, where there was nothing of interest to him to provide with a distraction.

That had been nearly half an hour ago. Now Charlie stood there, looking sad and ashamed, and your heart caved just a little at his forlorn expression.

"Come here, Charlie," you spoke softly. He shuffled forward and onto the couch, being careful to stay on your uninjured side as he crawled into your open arms.

"I know 's all my fault," he said with his face pressed into your shirt. You held him in a tight embrace, stroking his hair and keeping him close to you. "'m really,  _really_ sorry."

You kissed the top of his head at the apology. "Thank you, Charlie. It takes a lot to admit when you did something wrong. That shows how big of a person you actually are." He tried to mask a sniffle.

"I shoulda stopped when you told me ta," he mumbled, embarrassed and a little bit ashamed. You gave a somewhat sad smile that he couldn't see.

"Yes, you should have," you agreed quietly, and his hands tightened on the back of your shirt. "But now you know to listen. That's a valuable lesson."

You knew it best to pretend as if neither you nor Steve noticed as he gently lost control of his sniffles and a few of them turned into brief sobs. It was only for a few moments, though, and he quickly snuggled even closer at your good hip and fell into a light nap.

You continued stroking his back, glancing up at last to see Steve's eyes rivited to the two of you, happy and loving smile on his face as he took in you comforting Charlie.

Steve looked up, and you were surprised at just how  _adoring_ his eyes were as they met yours. He smiled more deeply at you, lips quirking up in a way that showed true contentment or appreciation or...something. There was something there that you couldn't quite place, but whatever it was made you feel warm and safe and just as happy as he was.

Sure, you hadn't known him all that long, and sure, maybe it was a bit too soon to be speculating, but as you grew lost in his tender gaze, you realized that the blue depths held a little bit of what felt like  _home **.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, feel free to leave requests. Happy to take all of your great ideas and incorporate them in here!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everybody for being patient. I know it's been some time since my last chapter, and I know last chapter was kinda short/uninteresting, though I tried to fill a few requests with it. I hope everybody was okay with it and will forgive me for the big delay.
> 
> I'm hoping to be a bit more regular now that I'm back with easily-accessible wifi, though my schedule is still a bit up in the air at this point and I've gotta figure out some stuff with, like, ~life~, so yeah. We'll see.
> 
> This chapter isn't extremely long either, but we're finally getting past the ~fantasies~ and into the rEaLiTy!! Yay!! More smut to come ;)

Steve was extremely grateful when she and Sam both agreed to skip the baby shower/party thing for Annette and Michael and just crash at Sam's house. It was still only early afternoon, but all of them were wiped and ready for some intense napping. Annette and Michael understood and graciously paid and thanked them before wishing them sweet dreams.

Steve was more than happy to carry her back to Sam's bridal style once again, despite her protests that she could hobble along just fine. She had continued to put up an almost playful struggle until Steve had leaned in to whisper lowly against her ear:

"I thought you _wanted_ me to carry you more. At least, that's what you said in the shower..."

Steve smirked as she had then quickly settled comfortably into his chest and thrown her arms around his neck, remaining quite content throughout the rest of their short journey as she sent an appreciative smirk at him.

They wearily entered the house in a tired huddle, Sam waving at them with an exhausted "g'night" before closing the door to his room behind him. Steve set her delicately on the guest bed, turning to walk out the door again, when she grabbed his wrist.

"Wait, you're not actually sleeping out on the couch again, are you?" she asked incredulously.

He shrugged. "It's not really a big deal."

She looked at him, unimpressed. "Steve, you don't fit on the couch. You're  _huge_."

He fought down a blush at the way she stressed "huge". She meant his frame, obviously, and the way his feet would undoubtedly stick off the end. Not...not  _that_.

"I'll manage. You could use the bed more than I could, what with being—"

"But what if I  _need_  you?"

Steve swallowed. He had been planning on leaving her door open so she could call for him if she needed anything...but he had a feeling she was talking about a very different kind of need.

He shuffled to the other side of the bed to be on her non-injured side and sat down on the mattress, hesitating only a minute before pulling his shirt off over his head. He kicked his feet back up on the bed and laid back on top of the covers, turning his head to look over at her.

She was lying back in the bed now, also above the blankets, eyeing him appreciatively as he laid next to her. She had kicked her shorts off, probably to get as little chafing on her burn as possible, and his eyes shamelessly took in her underwear below the hem of her t-shirt. He had been worried she'd be shy at first, wanting to stick to basic hand holding and chaste kisses as they got to know each other, but based on the way her eyes locked imploringly on his...

He felt a moment of guilt. He'd prefer to take a woman out at least once or twice before doing anything more than just some kissing, but because of his predicament with the serum and all, he felt the need to find relief constantly weighing on the back of his mind and rushing him to push for more from women sooner than he'd have liked. But with the way she was looking at him...

They were both two consenting adults who could put a stop to things if either didn't want this, he reminded himself. With that thought locked in mind, Steve leaned closer to her, running a hand down her cheek softly, watching the way her eyes floated shut at the contact.

He trailed his hand heavily down her neck, admiring the curve to it as she tipped her head back. Her mouth fell open, tongue licking at her lips as her eyelids fluttered.

Steve's fingers brushed beneath the neckline of her shirt, tracing along her collarbones and the backs of her shoulders. He removed his hand from under her collar to run it all over her front but she caught his wrist instead, tugging at it to indicate he should come closer. 

He happily obliged, scooting until his legs were pressed against her uninjured one and his hips were lying inches from hers. She dropped his hand to her chest, allowing him to feel her breasts through the material of her shirt and bra and fondle them as he pleased. Her eyes were heavy lidded as his thumb sought out her nipples and dug into her flesh with heated desire.

Steve was growing hard in his boxers, erection making a happy appearance once again after being told to beat it earlier today after the whole shower incident. He wasn’t quite there yet, but the way her mouth hung open as he palmed her breast and traced the cup of her bra had him twitching with interest and his skin running even hotter than normal.

He shifted his hips closer to her leg, letting her feel the growing length press against her thigh and draw out a small shiver from her frame. His nipples were growing stiff as he circled hers with a thumb, his fingers slipping beneath her bra to feel the tiny bumps and pert nub as she let out a heavy sigh and melted back into the mattress.

Steve leaned over her slightly, eyes locking first on her face as he took in the sight of her laid out all for him. Her shirt collar hung low and askew to reveal the top of one of her bra cups, the hem pushed all the way to her ribs from where Steve’s hand had switched to caressing her breasts from below. He ground his pelvis down onto her thigh only briefly, relishing the small gasp that escaped her lips and the way her hips shifted into the air entirely unconsciously.

Steve focused back in on her face as he leaned down slowly, watching her watch him through her half-lidded eyes that were full of dark and heavy desires. His lips met hers in a heated impact; biting, nipping, _claiming_ her mouth with his. His tongue quickly quelled hers and directed the kiss, lips eventually trailing from her mouth to her cheek and down to her jaw, finally sucking a mark onto her neck as she moaned softly into his ear.

Her hand was exploring his chest, tracing the raised ridges of his pectorals and plucking at his nipples almost playfully, nails grazing lightly across his skin and leaving tiny trails of tingles and goosebumps in their wake. She thumbed his nipple some more as he kissed down her neck, her unoccupied hand sneaking its way to the front of his shorts and cupping him through the thin material.

He pulled his face a few inches from her neck with a sharp inhale as she slowly began rubbing at his almost fully-swollen dick. She squeezed the length lightly and he dove back at her neck with a growl, hand roughly pulling the cups of her bra down to expose her breasts beneath her shirt. She gasped in surprise at this, back arching off the bed and pushing into his hand as he kneaded her firmly, small _mmm_ ’s falling like music onto his heated skin.

He tugged at the shirt, relaying his intentions. She lifted her shoulders and allowed him to shuck it off, leaving her in her bra and panties, breasts fully exposed and making him groan with want.

Steve lowered his face to one nipple, licking harshly over it with a flat tongue before nipping gently around the areola. She gave a full-body shudder beneath him, wrapping her fingers the best she could around his cock while it was still covered and beginning to stroke firmly up and down. He moaned as he finally took the bud into his mouth, thrusting gently into her hand as he let saliva coat the raised skin. He sucked and slurped at the bud, memories from his USO days flooding his mind as his teeth grazed softly over the sensitive flesh and took just the nub between his lips and rolled and sucked, almost smirking in satisfaction as her moans got louder and louder.

He realized that the hand that had been wandering his chest had slipped down the front of her underwear, and he pulled her wrist away with a growl. She held her breath as he slowly lowered his hand to the front of her panties and traced the wetness there, her hips jerking up in search of more contact. His middle finger slipped down the front, finding her swollen clit easily and pressing gently but unrelentingly over it until she let out her first small cry and her hips bucked.

He toyed with her clit, pushing it up from the bottom or down from the top, occasionally drawing swift circles over or around it, keeping on just the right side of too much most of the time and only allowing her short reprieves without direct contact. He continued his small thrusts into her hand, dropping his head to her shoulder and groaning as the desire for skin-on-skin contact to his dick grew overwhelming, but not wanting to ask and make her feel obligated.

She seemed to understand what his groan had meant, though, and her hand had fallen down to his balls once to squeeze them over the fabric before wriggling its way into his shorts. She grasped him firmly, just holding him for a moment as he hissed into her shoulder and his body went rigid, his own hand pausing in its movements against her clit.

Then she started stroking, going up and down near the base of his huge cock before eventually travelling the entire way to the tip, collecting the pre-come there and using it to make her motions more comfortable. He restarted his own ministrations, letting his middle finger slide in and down her slit to her entrance and just barely pushing in as his thumb continued to rub and massage her sensitive bundle. His head was resting on her shoulder as his lips pressed to her neck, nipping the skin and leaving hot kisses as she tried to stifle her whimpers with his finger slowly pushing in and out of her, though he kept the strokes shallow. Her hand on him tightened even more, thumb rolling the foreskin and fingers pinching gently at the tip. He bit his lip to smother a growl as her thumb rolled right against his slit without repentance, serving back to him all the concentrated stimulation he had been focusing right on her clit earlier.

He could feel her chest rising and falling beside him as her breathing grew rapid, restless shifting of her hips indicating to him that she was close. He thrust his finger all the way in, expertly locating her g-spot and massaging it for only an instant before she gave a startled cry and came. She clenched around the single finger inside of her, shuddering as Steve continued to prod against her g-spot with that finger and tease the underside of her clit with his thumb. She lay still next to him, body completely relaxed into the mattress, finally letting out a soft whisper of, “ _Steve_ ,” that was more breath than voice.

He pulled his hand from her panties, bringing his finger to his mouth and tasting her release. Her eyes fluttered open as his tongue worked around the appendage and she moaned deep in her throat. The sound made him let out a humming sigh around his finger.

“Show me what you like?” she asked in a soft and tempting voice, pressing even closer to his side.

Steve kicked off his shorts and boxers, too distracted by his throbbing cock to notice that she had discarded her bra and panties as well until she pressed her chest into his side, hard nipples brushing over his hot skin and making even more pre-come leak from his tip.

She resituated against him as he lay back and got comfortable, shifting more onto her side but keeping her injured leg well out of the way. Steve got a whiff of her essence as she opened her legs and got settled with her hurt side at a safe distance from him so it wouldn’t get accidentally touched or knocked into. Her breasts smooshed against his side as she rested her head on his shoulder like he had been doing to _her_ before, face tilted down to see what she was doing and breath tickling his still pert nipples.

She grasped his cock lightly with one hand, waiting for him to cover it with his own. He settled his palm gently over hers, completely engulfing her fingers as he started to gently move his hand up and down and she moved with him. He ran their hands over his head and squeezed, smiling internally when she caught on and squeezed on the next upstroke without his prompting to, mouth too busy moaning to form an external smile as tingles shot up his spine and down to his toes.

He showed her how he liked the foreskin played with underneath his dick, paying special attention to the frenulum before stroking down the thick vein on the underside. In minutes she had him panting and gasping into the still air of the room, hand hot over his cock and sure in its strokes, his own hand long having fallen away to play with his nipples.

He jolted when she shifted her head to allow her tongue to curl wetly over one nipple, letting out a wanton moan as he was pushed that much closer to his orgasm. It was when her hand dropped to his balls, fondling them with such boldness and sense of propriety, that Steve finally came, cry strangled high in his throat.

She continued massaging his sack as the spurts of come finally stopped, dick only deflating about half-way as his supersoldier stamina let it be known he could go another round. He was too blissed-out to care at that moment, focusing solely on the intense feelings of pleasure in the immediate present instead of possible future enjoyment. He let out a happy sigh and relaxed into the soft comforter.

He was slow to open his eyes, belatedly registering the feeling of fingers trailing over his stomach and thighs and looking over to see her sucking on her first two fingers, sending him a hazy smolder as she scooped up more of his come from his hip and brought it again to her lips, tongue rolling sensuously over her own hand and eyes locked on him.

He moaned at the unfairness of it all; she was just _too damn sexy_. He brought his hand to her cheek and pulled her into a heated kiss, not claiming this time so much as _sharing_ : sharing their taste, their hunger, their appreciation.

She let out a loud groan upon pulling away, and Steve shifted next to her, bed squeaking as he rested part of his weight across her torso, still careful of her bad leg.

They both jumped when there was a loud _bang!_ against the wall, followed by a more muted _thump_ , Steve realizing that a shoe had just been thrown from the other side of the wall, directly above their headboard. They heard Sam’s muffled voice quite loudly through the partition:

“ _Nu-uh. Round two’s gonna hafta wait until tomorrow, folks! This boy needs his_ sleep _! Now, good. Night_.”

Steve looked at her, meeting her wide-eyed expression with one of his own, before they both burst into silent giggles. She held a hand to her mouth as she laughed, eyes shining at him from where she was covering the lower half of her face to quiet her giggles. He had to hide his face in a pillow to keep from snorting out loud and making Sam even grumpier. Oh, it was gonna be hell to face him later.

Eventually they quieted down some, laying back on the bed and snuggling soundly into the pillows. They were both naked atop the blankets still, neither feeling the need to get dressed or cover up. Steve’s body was warm enough not to need blankets, and with her injury, it was probably best to keep it from making contact with anything that could further irritate it.

She flung an arm across his waist, humming softly as she pressed her face to his neck. He let out a contented sigh, pulling her gently closer and kissing the top of her head as he drifted happily towards dreamland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write Steve as a little bit more knowledgeable because of his time on the USO tour instead of the shier, milder Steve I tend to write when it comes to sex. While I don't consider him to be necessarily more ~dominant~ in this chapter, he definitely knows what he's doing and what he wants. 
> 
> Let me know what type of sex scenes you'd like to see in this fic! Now that we've (finally) gotten here, it's gonna be more smut, less story, though there will still be Sam and Natasha (and a little more of the kids, I think) in it, and we'll get to see you and Stevie go on a date! Anyone have preferences on D/s, roleplay, spanking, bondage, dirty talk, etc? Lemme know!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So...long time no post. Sorry about that. I've been working on this chapter intermittently for weeks now, and was finally like "y'know what I'm just gonna post it" so here it is. Not entirely pleased with it, but it'll serve as a bit of a bridge between one part to another. Normally I wouldn't post if I wasn't real happy with it, but I think I just need to get on with things. Hope it is sufficient until my next post.
> 
> P.S. Thank you for all of you that have continued to message me and give me support and ideas. It's truly huge in getting me to write. Please continue to leave requests and things you want to see in the story. Working on Chapter 15 now!!

You woke up with the light of late afternoon shining gold across the room, dancing along the walls and giving life a surreal feel. Things grew even _more_ surreal when you turned your head to see a very naked Steven Rogers lying right next to you on the bed, magnificent chest rising and falling gently with his breathing as he slept peacefully on.

Glancing at the clock, it appeared you had been sleeping about five hours, meaning the party for Annette and Michael was well over and it was probably too late to wander over and ask for cake. Stretching carefully so as not to wake Steve or twinge your burnt leg, you slid off the bed and pulled on a loose sundress stuffed at the bottom of your bag, appreciating the freedom of not having to don underwear or pants that would scratch at the injured skin. Sneaking quietly from the room, you stole to the kitchen for a snack, turning the TV on low volume and browsing random channels.

“Mind if I join?” a voice entirely too feminine to be either of the men in the household asked.

You startled as Natasha vaulted lithely over the back of the couch and landed gracefully on the other end, barely rustling the cushions or creating a bounce at all. She smiled at you as she reached out and took a big handful from your bag of Doritos, smirking at the likeness of Captain America printed on the front.

You gave a rueful grin, liking the woman more and more with each of your spontaneous meetings. “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, do I?”

She considered you a moment before shaking her head. “No, not really. What’re we watching?”

You gestured to the television where some old Western was currently showing. It wasn’t anything especially interesting, but it was acceptable background and capable of holding attention for a few minutes at a time, whenever the two of you weren’t talking.

Natasha was…an interesting woman, you found. It was refreshing how chill she seemed about meeting new (or new _ish_ , in your case) people, not putting in any of that well-intentioned but still tiring effort of false-politeness as you sat and talked. She appeared laid back and relaxed as she treated you like you were old friends, though you had no doubt based on the stories of the infamous Black Widow that she was analyzing your every answer and keeping a keen eye on her surroundings at all times. Still, for you, at least, things seemed content and at ease, and you were more than happy to listen to her tales of the shenanigans she and the other Avengers had gotten up to in between missions and saving the world.

“…Thor had never eaten at Burger King before. We stopped by one in Louisiana for a post-mission celebration after stopping the radioactive, flying jumbo-shrimp. This BK had been on the very edge of the threat-radius and was mostly unaffected…Though one of their fry cooks had received a bite from a stray shrimp and ended up in the hospital. But they were more than happy to provide us with a free meal in thanks for saving their end of the danger zone. Thor insisted on wearing one of the paper crowns the entire meal, and crowned Clint ‘King of the Chicken Nuggets’ when he ate forty-two of them in one sitting. Tony got stuck in the slide of the plastic playground, and had to cut himself out using a laser from his suit. Bruce ate sixteen Whoppers in less than ten minutes—he gets really hungry after Hulking out. In fact, one time after a mission he ate an entire sow’s worth of bacon…”

Steve wandered his way out of the bedroom sometime after the Western had ended and switched to another old movie—an underwater adventure of sorts, this time. He grunted a greeting at Natasha before flopping onto the couch without any grace, sprawling out across the middle between the two of you. He glared half-heartedly at the bag of Captain America Doritos in your lap, taking it and dropping it in Natasha’s lap before wiggling until he was laying across the couch on his stomach with his torso cradled between your legs and his head resting on your belly.

You carded your fingers happily through his hair as Natasha huffed and pushed both the Dorito’s and Steve’s feet out of her lap, re-situating until she sat perched atop the supersoldier’s legs with a regal air. “I swear, Rogers, I let you do this too goddamn much…”

He only hummed into your stomach, eyes closed as one hand traced gently over the skin of your good thigh. He had pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants before exiting the bedroom, and you traced the logo on his back with soothing strokes until he was nearly asleep again.

By the time Sam came out to join you three, the underwater adventure movie was halfway over and Natasha had redone her nails a devastating red. She sat primly across Steve’s calves, and you were amazed at the poise with which she applied the polish on such a precarious seat.

Sam took one look at the couch before slouching his way over to the big easy chair in the corner, quilt from his bed dragging behind him like a cape as he wrapped it around his shoulders. He snuggled into the chair with a sigh, closing his eyes almost immediately and drifting back to sleep.

Looking around the room you couldn’t help but smile. Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. They looked like a teenage slumber party: there were Doritos and popcorn scattered on the floor, two members passed out in random positions, and one person doing their nails; Sam even had an Xbox and Wii set up in front of the TV for an epic game of Mario Kart later, if you could convince them to join you.

Natasha glanced over at you like she could tell what you were thinking. “We’re not as glamorous as most people like to believe. They act like kids ninety-percent of the time we’re not on duty,” she informed, mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Steve spoke up from where his face was pressed against your front. “What, and you don’t?” Apparently he was not as asleep as he had seemed.

Natasha raised an eyebrow (default expression) and turned back to consider her nails. “Of course not. Someone has to babysit all of you, don’t they? And it’s not going to be Fury, so,” she pursed her lips, blowing on one hand as Steve sighed loudly beneath her.

“Whatever. Just don’t think I’ve forgotten about that time in Tokyo— _ow_!” he yelped. Steve jolted upwards as Natasha’s hand shot out and smacked him hard on the ass.

“Not. Another. Word.” She grit out.

Steve let out a rather adorable whimper and nodded just as Sam shot up from his chair, quilt still around him like a cape but hands out in front of him like some bad karate movie.

“Relax, Sammy. It was just Natasha putting Steve in his place,” you assured the man, who was looking around him in alarm with quite bleary eyes. You shared an inside smile with Natasha over the length of Steve’s body. You didn’t know what this Tokyo-incident was, but women had to stick up for each other to keep men from ruining all the fun.

Plus, watching Steve jump like a scared animal had been hilarious.

Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and curled further into your body, an entertaining sight considering he was half hanging off the couch, big frame overwhelming the tiny space. You hummed and brushed your fingers along his neck, pleased with how natural it all felt despite only knowing him a few days, really.

Laughter floated in through the open window, a bunch of the kids on the block apparently playing a game of touch football mixed with volleyball. You gave a content sigh, pleased you didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything for the rest of the day—especially anything involving _children_.

You jolted suddenly as you realized you _did_ have something to do with children—at least, they could _somewhat_ be considered children.

“Ahh, man, I’ve got papers to grade,” you groaned out. Your hand came up to rub at your temple, frown settling over your features as you thought about how unfair it was that you still had work to do over spring break. Although you never assigned your students homework over breaks or weekends, it didn’t mean that _you_ didn’t have stuff to do. Darn.

Sam spoke up from his cocoon of blankets. “Forget about it. I brought you out here to _relax_ , not to stress. ‘s spring break.”

Gee thanks, Sammy. That helps _a lot._

“Lot of relaxing we’ve gotten done, that’s for sure,” you muttered, thinking over the past five days. Literally hours after you had arrived in D.C., Sam had gotten you roped into another job. Way to go, Sam.

“Hey, it’s not my…yeah, it’s totally my fault.” He didn’t even _try_ to defend himself. He was learning.

“Well, in the meantime, how ‘bout we play a game of Mario Kart?” Natasha propositioned, and you grinned. “That way I can kick all your asses at once.”

The grin on your face faltered. You considered yourself a MK champion of sorts, but faced with the reality of competing with _THE_ _Natasha Romanoff_ , you suddenly had about fifty-percent less faith in your abilities.

Still, what was life without a little challenge?

%%%

“…have the Whiskey Burger, side of fries, and the classic Buffalo Wings,” Sam recited to your waiter.

“Nice. I’ll be right back with your appetizers.” The waiter—coincidentally _also_ named Sam—collected your four menus and disappeared in the crowded restaurant.

“Wow. Applebee’s is, uh, rather busy, don’t you guys think?” Steve asked apprehensively. He was obviously more than a tad uncomfortable with the amount of people in the restaurant, and didn’t seem eased by the low-lighting that glowed throughout. You noticed him continuously glancing at the exits, checking every new face that walked in from man, woman, to child.

You slid your hand into his underneath the table. He paused in his furious examination of your surroundings to look to you.

“Hey, if you’re uncomfortable, we can leave.”

Steve smiled softly at your offer. “No, no, it’s okay. I know Sam and Nat really wanted to come here to eat, and I’ve never been here before, so...”

“A true travesty,” Sam piped up.

“I’m just a little jittery being in a new place is all,” Steve went on. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

You smiled back at him, squeezing his hand in both of yours. “Still, if you want to leave at any point. Let us know, okay?”

Steve nodded once, then his eyes were drawn to the steaming plates of appetizers that Waiter Sam set on the table before you. Falcon Sam nearly crowed in delight.

“Whoo! Food is here, hot ‘n ready, and I am _hungry_! Hey thanks, Sam my man.” Falcon Sam smiled his brilliant smile at Waiter Sam, who gave a dramatic bow paired with a flirtatious wink and an accented “at your service”.

“Your meal will be ready within thirty minutes. Sorry about the wait. We seem to be rather busy tonight.” Waiter Sam smiled, now apologetic.

“Oh that’s perfectly fine. Thanks for bringing our appetizers out so quickly,” Natasha soothed, and Waiter Sam looked overwhelmed as to whether he wanted to ask for Falcon Sam’s number or hers.

“Sure thing. Just signal if you need anything, kay?” Waiter Sam nearly flounced off, floating on Cloud Nine after receiving a second blinding smile from Falcon Sam and a knowing wink from Nat.

“I think you just made his day,” you commented, poking through the various plates of appetizers in search of what you wanted.

“I think we just made his _week_ ,” Sam corrected, tearing into the boneless wings with an intense dedication.

“Always so cocky,” Natasha chided, though she too appeared quite pleased with herself and the attention they showered on Waiter Sam. He really was quite cute.

Steve appeared more at ease now that he had something to focus on and keep his hands busy, and you only somewhat regretted having to let go of his hand in order for you both to properly enjoy your food. When his foot hooked around your ankle under the table and his thigh pressed right against yours, though, everything went back to being _perfect_.

Sam was rattling on about baseball statistics as he and Steve stared avidly at the many television screens around the restaurant, all displaying a different game. They argued about training camp stats and RBIs and batting averages, seeming unable to agree on most anything regarding the teams and the players.

“What about you, Natasha? Who do _you_ think has the best chance of going to the World Series this year from the National League?”

Natasha considered the onion ring between her fingers before taking a bite and chewing it slowly, appearing to be seriously considering. Sam glanced sassily at Steve, as if just waiting for Nat to agree with him and therefore _prove_ he was right.

“I dunno,” she finally said at length, and Sam deflated with a sigh, staring mournfully at his classic buffalo wings. “I like the mascots, though,” she added. “They’re kinda cute.”

You laughed loud and happy, throwing your head back at the devastated expressions on the boys’ faces. While they were busy looking lost and confused as to what was right with the world anymore, Natasha caught your eye and winked, mouthing to you her prediction. You considered. Your brothers (both avid baseball fans) were constantly discussing stats and standings throughout the season, and even though it was a little early on to be sure, they both agreed that _that_ specific team had a good chance of making it to the World Series, if not winning it. They weren’t a particular favorite of yours, but based on what you had seen of them, you had regretfully agreed with your older bros.

But now if _Natasha_ was betting on them…

You nodded to her once, brief and approving, before going back to your food.

The four of you continued chatting and laughing as you waited for the main course to arrive. Steve had looked through the dessert menu a total of four and a half times by the time Waiter Sam came back, two more waiters in tow in order to carry the amount of food needed to satisfy a supersoldier, an ex-airman, _and_ an assassin. And you.

Waiter Sam delegated the correct dishes to the correct people swiftly and efficiently, obviously not wanting to make a scene with their little group and draw any more attention from surrounding tables. Your friends seemed to appreciate it, wanting to simply relax for once and not be bombarded by fans and phones.

“Enjoy your meal,” Waiter Sam instructed, before turning and ushering his helpers away. The four of you were left in peace with one heavy table of food.

“Alright, let’s eat!”

Ever since your younger years, Sam always did have such a passion for food…

%%%

“Can I get any desserts for you guys?”

Waiter Sam held his pad and pen at the ready, fully expecting to be bombarded with requests. Falcon Sam, who apparently had an even higher metabolism being a superhero now than last time you hung with him, gave a blanket order of one of everything for all of you to share.

“We gotta give Stevie boy the full experience here,” was his defense after Waiter Sam walked off and the rest of you turned to look at him.

“Sure, keep using me as a scapegoat,” Steve muttered, taking a long drink from his glass. He playfully knocked elbows with you, before stretching a casual arm around your shoulders. Natasha did the same to Sam, creating a somewhat amusing picture considering she was so much smaller than him.

“What? Gotta keep it looking natural with you two, right?” she stated haughtily, over a nearly swooning Sam. “That’s what friends are for.”

You and Steve both laughed as she shifted position so that her leg was now straight across Sam’s lap, holding him in place and keeping him pinned to his seat, though it looked just as casual as before. “There. That’s more comfortable.”

Sam smirked, coming back to himself just enough to remark in an adoring falsetto, “Whatever you want, dearest,” and batting his eyelashes.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation as everyone sat digesting, happy to be among friends and enjoying time off from work and world saving and babysitting. You watched a waitress out of the corner of your eye as she cleaned a table close to yours, picking up the small cup of crayons and colorable kiddie menus that the previous young family had made good use of. As she passed, you caught her attention.

“Excuse me,” you prompted quietly. “Do you have any extra crayons and paper?”

“Oh, of course! Give me just a moment,” she smiled and walked away.

You settled back into Steve’s half embrace against the booth, only awarding him a tiny smile as he looked to you questioningly. He shrugged, going back to tearing a straw wrapper into little balls and flicking them at Sam and Natasha as the two of them talked quietly across the table.

The waitress was back in less than a minute, setting a small pail of crayons and a stack of unused kiddie-menus on the table. “Here you go,” she offered with a grin.

“Thank you so much.” You gave a small tip before turning more towards Steve. “I thought we could use these to keep ourselves entertained.” He beamed.

The two of you set to work, happily ignoring Sam and Natasha on the other side of the booth as they slowly inched to sitting closer and continued to talk softly to one another. Both of you completed the maze, tic tac toe, and all the other little games offered along the borders of the menu, before flipping them to the back and just doodling.

You decided to draw what famous buildings around the world would look like had they been made of Legos, using red, yellow, blue, and green to create a masterful rendition of the Eiffel Tower and the Taj Mahal before you noticed what Steve was up to.

He was drawing seemingly random blobs of color on the paper, just scribbles of orange, yellow, and green across the entire sheet, before flipping it over and beginning to fold. You watched entranced as he created fold after precise fold, flipping the paper over and around and blowing into whatever he had created until it expanded into a tiny little box.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so…that’s so _cute_ ,” you gushed, poking the little origami box with a hesitant finger. The random assortment of colors before were now an intriguing pattern on the box, shading certain folds and sides particular colors until it formed a picture. “Is that…it that a flower? You aligned the colors so that it so it would show a flower?!” You were impressed.

Steve chuckled, spinning the little box on the table a few times before picking it up and examining it. “It was easier to figure out which colors should be where when the paper was flat than just coloring on the box once it was completed and possibly denting it.” He smiled bashfully at your awed expression. “Supersoldier smarts,” he explained with a shrug. “I could picture it without having to do it.”

You shook your head, thoroughly impressed by this man’s creativity. “That’s pretty amazing. It’s beautiful.”

He blushed, before offering the little box to you. “ _You’re_ beautiful. For you.”

Your fingers moved to cradle the box gently, mouth already forming the words _thank you_ when you registered what he had said.

“O- _oh_. Thank you. Really.”

The sweet moment was interrupted when Natasha yawned loudly from the other side of the table.

“You two need to just kiss already,” she said in a bored tone, as if it was the most mundane thing in the world to comment on your friends’ love lives in such a straightforward manner. And—who knew—maybe for her it _was_.

“ _Hah_ , they were already fucking this afternoon,” Sam corrected her, and Steve immediately went bright red. “Kept me up even after we all skipped the party and went to bed. I’m still tired,” he complained.

Steve stammered out an explanation to defend the two of you. “We—we weren’t—it’s not like that—”

“See? Told you they’d be in each other’s pants within a week. And you even admitted it yourself. You owe me seventy bucks, kid.” Natasha had an air of superiority about her (as she usually did, though this one was much more victory-tinged) as she looked expectantly to Sam.

“Wait, you two _bet on if we would get together or not?_ ” you asked, eyes wide and brain rushing to process.

Sam was spluttering. “You— _fuck_ you! You just wanted the satisfaction of me saying it, you already _knew_ they had fucked, and I don’t even know how you knew, and—”

“The question wasn’t _if_ so much as _when_ ,” Nat said, speaking over Sam to address your question. “He thought Steve would be too much of a gentleman to seduce you within a week of meeting you; I figured it would happen well before then. And seeing as it’s only Wednesday…you guys had three whole days left, and still I was right. Not that any of you should be surprised,” she added drily.

“What? I—I didn’t _seduce_ her! We only—”

“Shh, Stevie; don’t kiss and tell,” you interrupted, laying a hand on his arm as you rested your head on his shoulder. “And besides. If anything, _I_ seduced _you_.” Steve’s face was flaming.

Naturally, that was the perfect moment for Waiter Sam to reappear. “Alright, here’s the—am I interrupting something?” Waiter Sam looked from you resting your head on Steve’s shoulder and his burning face to Natasha and where she still sat with her legs over Falcon Sam’s lap.

“No, dear, you’re fine.” Natasha gracefully slid her feet back to the floor and leaned closer to Waiter Sam, right into Falcon Sam’s personal space. Both men fidgeted. “What did you bring us?”

“…Ah, right. Well, first off, this is—” Waiter Sam counted off every item on the table, giving its name and a brief description, setting a handful of forks and spoons down near one plate before wishing you guys a pleasant dessert.

The talking finally died down at your table as everyone enjoyed the many sweets, passing plates and recommending different cakes to each other with brief words before stuffing your mouths again. It lacked elegance, but hey. You could hardly be blamed.

Waiter Sam finally brought the check over and cleared the plates. Natasha swiped the little black book before any of them could react, pulling out a silver card and tucking it neatly into the designated slot. Waiter Sam was quick to take it away and bring it back (along with a plate of mints), wishing all of you a good night and thanking you for eating at Applebee’s.

Nat scribbled a signature and a good tip on one of the receipts before looking up at the rest of you. “Shall we go?”

“Sure thing. I gotta find a bathroom though,” Sam commented, slipping from the booth with a stretch before walking off towards the restrooms.

“We’ll wait for you by the car,” Steve called after, getting a wave of acknowledgement as Sam turned the corner.

The three of you walked through the packed restaurant and out to where the sun had set and the air was still warm. Natasha spied a Target store along the strip across the parking lot and began walking off.

“Hey, where you going?”

“Sam’s house doesn’t have any personality to it—I’m going to look for decorations and find more candles. We used up the last of them last week. Come find me in there when Sam gets out.”

Neither of you were able to give a response before she had disappeared among the dark lot full of cars, striding purposefully towards quality home décor.

Steve turned toward you, coming over to lean against the side of the car like you had. He put his arm around your shoulders, and though the gesture was meant to be casual, you could feel the uncertainty in his posture, the nervousness in his gaze.

You stopped yourself from smiling at his endearing vulnerability. He was _adorable_.

“Come here,” you instructed, guiding him gently by his shirt until his face was close to yours.

You pressed your lips gently into his, savoring the sweetness still on them from dessert, melting into the soft cushion of that pink mouth. He smiled and let out an exhale through his nose, both arms holding your shoulders so that you were pressed softly to his front. His embrace was heavenly.

The two of you broke apart just as Sam came out.

“Hey there, lovebirds. Where’s Nat?” The man looked around him, fully expecting her to jump out at any minute to try—and succeed—to scare him.

You smirked, opening the driver’s side door to your rental. “Hop in, birdbrain. We’re going shopping.”

Sam groaned, feet dragging as he made his way to the second door and flopped in the back seat. “Awh, haven’t we done _enough_ shopping all this week?” he griped, falling dramatically across the entirety of the back seat.

“It’s Natasha. Do you really wanna say no to her?”

And whether because he was too afraid of her or too enamored with her (though likely it was both), Sam shut up and buckled in, only letting out a small sigh as you backed the car out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Ta-da. (except not really)
> 
> Been having trouble getting inspiration/motivation when it comes to writing, but i figured it would help if i just got ~something~ done and posted. This will help lead into the next chapter though, where there'll actually be quality writing and excitement. Hooray!
> 
> please continue to leave comments about what you liked or didn't like so I can continue to improve this story and make it worthwhile for all my awesome readers. You guys are seriously the best, and i think im in love. Thank you


	15. UPDATE (NOT A CHAPTER)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not a chapter

Hi everyone, Parachute here.

 

Sorry for the radio silence on my end for the past couple of months; various things in my life have been falling in and out of place since the beginning of the year and it all seems to be coming to stressful climax of sorts, these past few weeks especially.

 

Before I continue, I would just like to state that I am  _ **NOT**_ abandoning this work, if that's what it was starting to sound like. I do have plans for this, I just don't know when those plans will be put into action.

 

_**This work will be on an indefinite hiatus until I can get my act together**_. I'm hoping that in these next few months I'll get my motivation for this piece back, but until then, please know that I am not abandoning this. Just you wait.

 

 

Some of the less serious reasons I've been struggling with adding to this story:

 

1) I have gotten so many great ideas for "Help Wanted", which, first of all, have all been amazing. So thank you. There was one specific idea that I was planning on incorporating into Chapter 15, a little of what Chapter 14 was leading up to, but now I'm stuck and I can't seem to write my way out. When I get my head back on straight it's very likely I'll take Chapter 14 down and redo it, but probably with very little of the same material still in it. I do still plan on using the idea I was prompted and all the other prompts/suggestions/ideas I've received, so don't worry, and _**feel free to keep sending them**._ Who knows, maybe one of them will be the inspiration I need to get this moving again.

 

2) The Batfamily from the DC universe has taken a not-so-temporary hold on my heart beginning earlier this year, and they are showing no indication of letting go any time soon. I may be posting some Batman/DC stories on here while I work to get my head screwed on straight and back into the Marvel mindset (god I feel like such a traitor tbh but I LOVE THE BATFAM YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS IS A REAL PROBLEM), so if you see that I've started other works, please don't think I'm not thinking about this one at all. I promise I am :)

 

3) Honestly I was so eager to make my AO3 account and start writing, but I've lost a lot of that love and motivation I once had for the idea. It seems that all of my best works are sitting in my drafts and only the poorly-written ones ever get published, backwards as that seems. I'm hoping to spend some time going through my works and finishing the ones that actually had promise and posting them as a sort of confidence-booster, or what you may call it. I'll probably be taking a few of the fics I've published down because they honestly suck. I've been so overwhelmed by the positive response to this fic because I still don't see it as being anything special, but you guys have all been so kind to me and it means the world, and I only want to give you my best in return. So I'll be working hard on my writing, and only publishing once I am 100% confident in what I've created (which means publishing may take a while).

 

 

I would love to hear anyone's thoughts or ideas on the story. If there's anything you want to see or any places you think this should go, I am still completely open to suggestions. I think it could actually help a lot to have some fresh ideas and new places to start in order to get this rolling once again! I'm trying to be optimistic about this, but I'm not sure how everything's going to be turning out, so I could use all the brainpower I can get.

 

Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ to all of you who have commented to check in on me and asked if there's any way you can help. Just your sweet words are helping more than you know :) I'm hoping to work on replying to some of the comments I've left unanswered these past weeks/months, and if you send anything new, I will try my best to get back to you.

 

After scrapping my tumblr account from way long ago, I've finally made a new one. Nothing posted there as of yet, but if it's easier for you to ask something/keep in touch through that website, feel free to. My url is: shewritestochangethefuture.tumblr.com. I hope that someday that may be the truth.

 

Wishing you all the best as always. Thank you for all your support and love :)

 

-Parachute


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